


The Great Multiverse Switch of Tim Drake

by redbirb



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DC Animated Universe, DC Comics, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Body Swap, DC multiverse, M/M, Multiverse, Switching, Tim centric, World Hopping, adding more tags as chapters upload, not sure what to tag this, tim drake centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-02-27 05:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 51,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13241154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbirb/pseuds/redbirb
Summary: When Tim goes to bed one night, he wakes up in an alternate universe, one where he is not who he once was.





	1. Part [1] - The Endeavor of Jason Todd

It starts rather simple.

Each Tim goes to bed, hauled into bed by their respective partners (because no incarnation of Timothy Jackson Drake learns that sleep is important and waiting until exhaustion sets in is not a healthy way to live) and dreams. There are a plethora of colors : different shades of blues and reds, soft yellow swirling with white and a sinister black blurs the corners of vision. Images also appear, often unclear but distinguishable in plain connected lines taking on the form of birds and gargoyles, among other things.

Each carries a memory. Each Tim recognizes one shape that resonates with them. Through this they are linked and through this they are switched.

Thus begins the great multiverse switch of Tim Drake.

________

Tim awakes in a comfortable position, cocooned in his usual arrangement of impersonating a human burrito made out of blankets. His face is mushed into a pillow, hiding away from the morning light shining through the blinds at the bedroom window. He wakes to a scent both familiar and not, tickling his nose as drowsiness dulls the senses. The pillow smells of himself, a hint of coffee beans and generic deodorant, and something else, a mixture of leather and cigarette smoke.

Tim only knew one person who smoked...

Eyes flown open wide, picking his head up allowed Tim to set his sight on Jason Todd sleeping soundly right next to him. It's shocking enough to send him tumbling over the right side of the bed with a pathetic squeak. The blankets were still wrapped securely around the stunned body, making him vulnerable for attack should the Red Hood wish harm ; not something unheard of considering their past fights.

His fall had been loud, loud enough to wake a certain uninvited sleeping companion. There was the sound of rustling before Jason poked his head over the side of the bed to stare down at him blearily. "Baby, what are ya doin' on tha floor?"

"Baby?" Tim gawked.

Jason got this dopey smirk on his face, one arm lolling off the edge. "Yeah?"

"J-Jason, what are you doing in my bed?"

That was a sobering moment. The older boy propped up on two elbows, looking down at Tim with narrowed eyes. "It's our apartment. Well, one of 'em. I still think we should ditch the one in Gotham. It's not like we use it when we visit and there are plenty o' safehouses to use if we don't wanna stay at the manor."

Tim blinked once, twice and - "You're crazy."

"Batshit," Jason snorted but there was a lack of humor in the action. "You're starting to freak me out, Timmers. What's got your pretty legs in a twist?"

"You!" Tim blurted out near furiously and struggled to untangle himself. His attempt was embarrassing, almost faceplanting twice before he could get his arms free and shove away the rest of the blankets. Body now freed, instincts brought him to his feet and stepping back to acquire some distance between himself and a well-known trigger happy vigilante. "In my home and in my bed! Are you playing some game because I am not okay with this. I get you and I have a complicated relationship but this is going too far. Don't invade my personal space!"

By the time Tim had finished ranting, Jason was sitting up and watching him in confusion. After a few seconds of silence, he held up a finger and declared," Okay, you win. You obviously need the caffeine so I'll let you have a cup of coffee with breakfast today. I'm not letting this become a habit though."

Tim watched in shock as the man ( _the second robin, the dead robin -_ ) casually stood, stretched with a yawn and strode out of the bedroom. Tim's mind was a whirlwind of panicked thoughts and wary emotion, consumed by a constant string of _danger danger escape while you can - find Bruce, find Dick, anybody to help - you are unequipped and he is dangerous -_

He took a deep breath and started a brief breathing exercise to force calm into his being. Taking back control was the first step to figuring out whatever the hell was going on. Thinking instead of feeling, respond rather than react : a fundamental lesson Bruce had taught him to instill patience in the face of crisis situations. When he could truly cement a solid train of thought, Tim found only questions. _What was Jason doing here? What did he want? Where did he go? Why was he talking to him like that?_ Too many inquiries with very little answers always made Tim itch with the need to solve them. An enigmatic puzzle had been laid before him and all he could focus on was where he could find the key to understanding it.

Tim did the first thing he was ever taught to do : survey his surroundings.

It was definitely his bedroom as far as décor went but there was missing clutter, a tidiness to his usual madness that was not present before. The bed was the same from when he bought it, the sheets and linen a soft baby blue he fancied and the nightstand held an alarm clock and a picture of one of the rare photos he cherished with his parents and younger version of himself (they'd taken him to the zoo like a normal, well-adjusted family for his seventh birthday) and even the wallpaper was the same. It wasn't until he'd cautiously opened the closet did he find anything noticeably out of the ordinary. There were his clothes hung on one side, two pairs of dress shoes and three different sets of sneakers on the floor beneath them but on the other side were clothes not his own and obviously a size too big to fit his smaller frame. There was also a pair of boots, black as tar and slightly scuffed that he'd never be able to wear. _Jason's?_

Finding a new determined mindset, Tim strode out to find.... a bigger living room than he previously remembers having? There's a red armchair also which doesn't belong to him and a mahogany dining table that is just a shade darker if his memory is to be trusted. He makes a sixty degree turn to spot Jason in the kitchen, also bigger than it's supposed to be. Tim has always prided himself on having a humble home, long ago shedding the luxury of a big house due to his childhood loneliness spent at Drake Manor, growing up without his parents' presence for the most part. A smaller apartment was easier to keep clean, cheaper to pay rent on and less people shaped gaps to remind him that he was generally alone.

A quiet clatter and running water propelled him forward, crossing the threshold separating him from the kitchen. His jaw nearly dropped off his body at seeing Jason washing dishes at the sink (was he always shirtless?) as something that smelled sinfully good was cooking. It should be criminal for Jason Todd to be at ease in such a domestic setting.

_Also those sweatpants should be illegal. I can see just under his hips and if he were to turn around - nope, bad thoughts, very bad thoughts! Awful, dirty thoughts!_

"Hey. It's not nice to stare." Tim jerks his head up quickly to meet cobalt blue eyes just a little brighter than his own. It's a teasing statement, Jason is grinning toothily in a way that trudges up a painful memory (of a little kid named Tim Drake snapping pictures of Batman and the new Robin, excitement in his veins and the second Robin's laughter echoes in his ears, so full and carefree and **alive** -). "Breakfast is about done. Sit down, I left your tablet on the table for ya."

Tim feels oddly... pleased with this. He shouldn't trust it, this isn't something they do (Jason wouldn't make him food and treat him this nicely or call him 'baby' any other day) and maybe he should be more concerned about the possibility of poisoning but he's actually terribly hungry. He's also coffee deprived and that never bodes well for his decision-making skills. A part of him also feels safe : although there are differences, his home is his territory and should a fight occur Tim will have the advantage but there's also Kon, a shout announcing trouble will send the Kryptonian running (especially if the one yelling for help is his boyfriend) which soothes further unrest.

Tim stops standing motionless in the doorway and plops down into one of the kitchen table's available seats. His precious tablet is waiting for him and Tim eagerly snatches it up to open a filtered newsfeed system he'd developed for tracking future cases. A headline catches his attention reading **BRUCE WAYNE WELCOMES POPE** that has him guffawing. _What would the Pope think if he knew he was actually meeting a masked vigilante?_

He takes a few minutes to search some keywords, processing information about a drug ring rumored to be travelling up west toward Canada through some connection in California yet to be pinpointed, when a plate is set infront of him. Curiously he lowers the electronic to scrutinize the edibles before him, nose twitching at the pancake dressed with strawberry eyes and blueberry smile. He looks up as Jason is placing down the syrup bottle who flashes him a dazzling smile. Tim watches in stunned amazement as the cook sits across from him with an identical plate, beginning to eat leisurely. Belatedly he also recognizes the scent of coffee, gaze zeroing in on a cup designed with **tweet tweet motherfucker** text accompanied by a bluejay holding a shotgun. It's surprisingly cute and he smiles into the cup as he takes his first sip and almost moans at the liquid bliss.

"Since when do you know how I like my coffee?"

"The moment I realized a coffee date would be the best way to ask you out."

Tim almost chokes, a lungful of hot liquid invading his chest narrowly avoided. "What," he coughs wetly," the hell?"

"Easy, princess." Jason hands him a paper towel, unconcerned. "It's not like you weren't there that day."

"J-Jason we aren't... you... I already have a boyfriend. You know that."

Jason smirked, eyes dancing with mirth. "Oh yeah? Lemme guess : tall, dark and handsome?"

Tim cleared his throat, wiping at his mouth self-consciously. "Conner may be kinda tall and handsome but definitely not dark."

Jason made a face. "Conner? Real funny, princess."

"Yeah," Tim spoke defensively. "Conner Kent. Superboy. My bestfriend.  My boyfriend."

"What the fuck? Are you pulling my leg right now?" The playful tone is gone.

Tim opens his mouth, argumentative nature creasing his eyebrows when it suddenly dawns on him why everything is so strange. Needing more proof of his silent theory, he takes off like a bird in flight, doesn't stop even as Jason shouts his name and bursts outside through the front door -

"Where are we?"

This isn't Gotham. His gaze sweeps across small shops and a narrow road where people are walking and riding bikes, a clear absence of cars. Indigo blue eyes fixate on a street sign but the black bolded words aren't in English ( _Mandarin or Japanese?_ ) and the otherwise generic faces of Gothamites have been replaced by distinct asian residents. He watches an elderly couple inspect a fruit vendor, attention crossing to a mother holding the hand of her child as the two walked and passes over to a group of teenage boys chatting while heading in the opposite direction.

"Atsuma, Hokkaido. Japan." He hears spoken over his shoulder and when he turns his head slightly, Jason's chest is in his peripheral. "Our home away from home. You should remember, you picked it out." Jason's voice holds an underlying worry. "Princess, you're really yanking my chain here."

"I don't think I belong here," Tim starts slowly, gaze returned to the scenery around them. "I mean, this isn't -" Isn't what? Not a timeline, perhaps an alternate dimension? Someplace he wasn't supposed to be? Yet how in the world had he ended up here?

"You're not makin' any sense. Just come inside and we'll talk this out." Tim allowed himself to be ushered back into the apartment quietly. "Maybe we should call someone. You've obviously hit your head or somethin'. Maybe B-man would know."

"Bruce!" Tim spun on his heel, wide eyes finding Jason's own confused ones. "We need to contact Bruce. With him maybe I can get this figured out, find the answers as to why I was sent here."

"Right," Jason muttered," time to get you checked out baby."

> [Wayne Manor, Gotham]

Anxiously Tim leaned forward in the 1990 camaro Jason apparently owned ( _this world's Jason if my theory is correct_ ) as they got closer to the Wayne estate. It looks the same, big and imposing the way he always has associated with Bruce Wayne (and in association Batman) but instead of intimidation, Tim feels relief ; the manor has always been a second home. He barely waits for Jason to park the car before he's speed walking to the large front door in a fit of inquisitive haste. It's when he's about to turn the handle that he pauses, thoughts plaguing.

_What else has changed? Are Bruce, Dick and Damian the same? Alfred too?_ A fear grips his heart harder than the want in seeing his extended family. _What if they don't believe me and I never get back to my home?_

"What are ya waiting for? Everyone is gonna be super hype about us coming for a visit." Jason is reaching from behind to open the door.

"Since when are you ever excited to see Bruce?"

Jason snorts. "You really must've hit your head. I'm gonna ask Bruce to look you over. But only after you help me beg Alfred to make some sugar cookies first."

Then the door is opened and Tim is stepping inside with Jason in tow and nothing looks different. If everything else that was weird up until now hadn't happened he might've believed he really was where he belonged. Yet the feeling persists as he watches Jason comfortably move about as if the older boy hadn't spent most of his resurrected life avoiding this place.

"Master Jason, Master Timothy. It is good to see you have safely arrived."

Tim turns and nearly stumbles to his knees. "Alfred?"

The man looks withered and thin, grey hair speckled in white and cheeks hollowed with the telling signs of age. He'd never looked so old and dying, at least not the last time he'd seen the butler. Still the man holds an immaculate posture, only slightly bent by a curving spine as a polite line occupies his mouth. Tim wants to ask who sucked the best years out of him, if he'd walked through an aging machine but resists.

"Timmy here needs a check up. Think Bruce can play doctor for a little bit?"

"Of course, Master Jason. I have informed Master Bruce of your circumstances when you called. He is awaiting your arrival down in the cave."

"And the sugar cookies ya know I love so much...?"

Alfred's lips quirked just the barest at the corners. "In the oven as we speak."

"Sweet! You're the best, Alf. I'm gonna take Timmy down now."

Alfred looks at Tim, wise eyes squinting slightly, framed by thick bifocals. He must look dumbstruck, completely stunned but the butler does not comment on it. "Excellent. I will announce when the cookies are ready."

Tim doesn't stop staring until Jason takes him by the shoulder and guides him to the hidden passage leading down to the cave. Each step has his heart pounding, eyes darting this way and that as he soaks in the familiar base of operations. When he sets his sights on the chair infront of the big Batcomputer, ice freezes his blood. He can't get the image of Alfred looking like the wind could blow him over out of his head. He's afraid of what Bruce will look like, of what differences he will come to face from his adoptive father and mentor.

"Hey Boss," Jason greets cheerily and startles him out of reverence.

The chair turns and Bruce appears... worn. For some reason he's smiling, crinkles at the corner of his eyes and more prominent laugh lines around his lips. There is a weariness Tim doesn't recognize exactly, something deep yet unhaunted in some missing way. A tightness still grips his chest as Bruce stands and reaches for Jason first, bringing the fostered son into a warm embrace.

"It's good to see you both. By the sound of your call I thought there was something wrong." When Bruce turns to Tim, it is with fatherly affection in dark blue eyes just as genuine as he remembers. He doesn't realize he's started crying until fingertips are tenderly wiping the tears away. "Tim?"

"I'm not supposed to be here," he breaks down and his voice is breaking against the syllables tumbling out. Saying the suspected truth makes him feel like he's disappointing his mentor and hero. "I'm not from here and I don't know what happened. I'm not your Tim Drake."

Jason is rushing forward to coo reassurances in his ear, a soothing hand rubbing his back in a manner that reminds him of Dick ( _where is he, where is my brother?_ ) and through the blurred vision he can see Bruce put on his serious Batman face. He can hear Jason talking to Bruce now, explaining how he'd woken up like this. He's awkward and stilted in this environment that's supposed to be his home but isn't under the scrutiny of this Not-His-Batman.

"I dunno, B. He's been acting weird since he woke up, spouting weird shit."

"Tim," the Batman voice sends shivers down his spine as he is addressed, even if he should be used to that tone by now. He forces his gaze to steady, blinking rapidly as the tears begin to stop. "What did you mean when you told Jason these things?"

"I'm not the Tim Drake you know. I'm from a different world." Tim takes a deep breath, exhaling shakily. "I noticed it when I woke up. My apartment was different, the place I was living in and Jason said we... he was my... my boyfriend." His cheeks alight with warmth at the admittance, half-surprised Bruce doesn't react negatively to that.

"Said he was dating Supes's clone kid."

"Conner," he supplies with a defensive bite. "Conner is my boyfriend in my world."

"How do I know this ain't some weird amnesia shit?" Jason counters and actually looks disheartened at Tim's words. "Baby, yer not making sense. I fell asleep next to ya last night."

"And you woke up with a different Tim," he insists. "For whatever reason we were switched - myself and your Tim. For what purpose I don't know but I'm telling the truth and I have to go home."

"You look the same to me."

"That's not the point," he snaps, irritable.

Tim feels familiar frustration set in, something not uncommon when interacting with Jason (or at the very least his world's Jason) which is easier to handle and latch onto than focusing on his misplaced presence here. He rounds on Jason, shoving him away slightly and takes a cautious step back.

"Tim -"

"Alfred looks like hell, I've never seen him look like that. You and I aren't even friends! You hate coming to the manor, you avoid us every chance you get and you've tried to kill me - more than once!" He grits his teeth, the last time Jason spoke to him still echoing in his ears.

_You're just a blind Bat Scout._

_You're nothing but a replacement._

_He won't kill for you or me. You're not his son. No more than I am._

"I would never hurt ya. Ya know that." Jason's Gotham-accented words were spoken softly, treating him similiar to a frightened animal. It held a note of heartbreak, a pleading edge as well.

Tim opens his mouth but stops. He glances between Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne, unmasked, unarmored and on speaking terms. What could've been different here for such a thing to exist?

It hurts to think about what he's about to do. Tim blurts it out anyway, eyes clenched shut. "You died Jason. The Joker killed you in my world. I took the mantle of Robin after you. You've been hurting ever since. It's why you tried to kill me."

"That's crazy, Tim. I never died. The Joker is dead and you've never been Robin."

His blood runs cold. A world where Jason never died. A world where the Joker was dead. A world where he never became Robin. He's not sure which part of that makes him the most uneasy.

When he opens his eyes, his gaze immediately finds Bruce ; it's partly habit and partly out of morbid curiosity. Tim feels guilt reap him, seeing a hollow emotion in Bruce's eyes. He's plaguing Bruce with the possibility, and Jason too, of the second Robin being taken away, of Bruce losing his ward.

But more importantly - "Did you kill him?"

It's directed at Bruce. If Jason had killed the Joker he wouldn't be here, at least that's what Tim believes. He's focused on that hollowness in his mentor's gaze at the villain's mention. This is a scary moment for Tim whose whole life thus far has been revolving around a vigilante code of no killing.

It is unspeakable, unbelievable and unfathomable. Yet, Bruce isn't denying anything. The seconds have been ticking for too long, the pause in answer speaking volumes itself.

"Why," he whispers. He feels vulnerable in this uncharted territory, afraid.

Bruce turns his sight onto Jason just behind Tim's shoulder but he doesn't turn to follow the gaze. He waits instead, a blink before their eyes lock again. "Because he was going to kill my son."

His world crumbles into static.

It's everything his world's Jason would've wanted : the Batman coming to the rescue just in time to save his apprentice, beating the psychotic clown down for tormenting his boy, abandoning the one golden rule in order to ensure Robin's survival.

The revenge of Gotham's king, of the **dark knight**.

"We're home!"

All three pairs of eyes land on Dick and Damian making their way into the cave from upstairs. The eldest Wayne ward has a beaming smile, sunglasses perched on the top of his head. The younger companion looks disinterested, nose upturned with loyal guard dog Titus by his side. It's a familiar sight for Tim, allowing him to divert his attention onto something easier to swallow.

"Dick!"

The moment Dick Grayson's smiling face is focused on him, Tim feels like everything is going to be okay. "Well if it isn't Jay's little sleuth!"

Tim is confused. Dick has never referred to him as being anyone's (except for something along the lines of being brothers) and prefers more personal and affectionate nicknames. Anxiousness prickles along his skin, watching as Jason and Dick embrace much like Bruce had done earlier. Damian forgoes greetings and heads straight for his father to debrief about the evening's events.

Another epiphany clogs his thoughts : Tim Drake was never Robin, therefore he was never adopted as a Wayne.

It makes Tim want to start crying all over again but his eyes are already stinging from before and energy has virtually been sapped from his very being. He's not a part of the Bat Family in this world, at least not his counterpart of this corresponding universe. This leaves less desirable questions such as what happened to this version's parents and what had this Tim been doing if not becoming Robin and then Red Robin as well as helping to run Wayne Enterprise?

The dizzying swirl of inquiries halt when a solid hand clasps his shoulder. He looks up to find Bruce standing infront of him with a worried expression. A glance behind shows Jason and Dick over the man's left shoulder equally concerned and Damian hovers just behind the right side with a raised eyebrow.

" Ti... Tim... Tim." Indigo orbs set themselves back onto Bruce at the call of his name. "I believe you. Just breathe and calm down. We'll figure this out together."

Tim nods and whimpers quietly. All he wants to do is collapse in a bed and wake up back where he belongs. As if reading his mind, Bruce commands Jason to set him up in a room to rest. Jason doesn't hesitate to comply, leading Tim into his room in the manor ( _this is ghostly considering Jason's room at my version of the manor is void but still set up just as my universe's Jason left it_ ) and the moment Tim's head hits the pillow, he is out like a light.

\---

Jason slowly makes his way back down into the cave. Despite his outward calm, his heart is a mess. Tim is acting horrifically strange and he isn't sure how he can help. Helplessness is not a foreign feeling but more one better avoided. It's why he's turned to Bruce, hoping the World's Greatest Detective can solve this sudden mystery ; not even Alfred's sugar cookies can stump the worry in his gut.

He walks back down to hear a conversation underway. " - a dimensional rift? I mean if we're to believe Tim then there's gotta be a way to prove it. A trace left behind? I just don't know how we can find it."

"It sounds highly irrational," Damian's snobby voice pitches in. "Perhaps Drake is using this as some kind of ploy."

"Watch it, pipsqueak." Jason is no stranger to the young boy's distrust, especially distrust and disdain aimed at Tim. "If yer implying that my princess is a gold digging trollop again, I may have to fight you for his honor."

He gets a sneer in response. "Can't imagine you as a white knight. Surely Drake is trying some angle. Why else would he claim such a preposterous situation if not to weasel his way out of this relationship you both share?"

"That's enough," Dick tries to placate," I think it's unfair to not at least look into the possibility."

Bruce is back at the Batcomputer, a few files opened. One of them is a file on Tim (precaution as the man had easily dismissed when Jason had accused him of paranoia) and another two on JLA members The Herald and Zatanna. It's surprising to see Batman turn to a magic user but they are all outclassed on this matter ; none of them have a degree in multidimensional displacement.

A part of Jason is still too stubborn to admit this is happening. His boyfriend is just having a bad day and after a little family visit with Alfred's healing cooking everything will return to normal. Unfortunately, his life has never been that easy and Tim's words hauntingly replay in his head on repeat, worse than a broken record.

_You died Jason._

The pain in that statement couldn't be ignored, neither the conviction behind it. But he wasn't dead, Bruce had saved him. Batman had come just before the Joker decided to detonate the bomb, took one look at Robin lying there tied up and beaten by a crowbar and pointedly poured all the bent up rage at the clown into one final fight resulting in the broken neck that killed Gotham's notorious psychopath.

Batman had killed for Robin, Bruce had killed for Jason, a father had killed for his son.

_I took the mantle of Robin after you._

Tim as Robin made an odd picture. Sure they had playfully fooled around with the idea of Tim wearing the green scaly tights and pixie boots (dumb yet kinky if not weird) but his boyfriend had never expressed a true desire of becoming a vigilante. When Bruce needed everyone on deck for an emergency was the only time they helped out : Jason in the streets and Tim at home base on the comms. Sure, Tim liked to be updated by news of Gotham City's crime rates and special cases but that was more curiosity and entertainment driven... right? After Jason hung up that life they had decided to travel and settle down in their own little patch of heaven ; somewhere tranquil and far away from Gotham's harsh reality.

_You've tried to kill me - more than once!_

That hurt the most. Jason could never think of any universe where he would harm his lover. Tim was the little patch of happiness he wasn't willing to part with. His life since birth was riddled with heartbreak and disaster ; his birth parents had done a good job of fucking his early childhood up as much as possible (he does feel less inclined to hate his mother however) before Bruce had found him. Being Robin had been the best thing that had ever happened to him, finding a father and mentor in Bruce Wayne. After his near-death experience with the Joker, Jason was benched for a long time and the Gotham terror known as Batman had stayed shelved for a time too. The city had been in a tension-filled uproar for months, the Gotham police unsure of whether to arrest the vigilante for murder or kiss his feet in gratitude.

Because of Bruce's guilt, it drove Jason away and he'd gone to stay with Dick for awhile. Taking his elder adoptive brother's advice, Jason developed his own identity as a vigilante - Red Robin. Eventually they both came back home, convinced Bruce to carry on with his vision of peace for Gotham and the three continued to fight the good fight. The guilt could still be seen but Bruce came through in the end ; it helped greatly when Damian came unexpectedly and Bruce needed to kick up his fathering instincts again as well as take on a new Robin.

Jason would trickle away from that part of his life gradually and gravitate more towards schooling. College was an unattainable dream when he'd just been Jason Peter Todd, the streetrat. After being adopted as a Wayne, all these opportunities arose including getting to pick where he wanted to go for further education. He met Tim in college since they'd shared a computer class together and Jason never wanted to leave the other's side again. It had started out with a dorky friendship that developed into a dorky romance ; or at least that's how Roy had teasingly summarized it once when explaining it to Kori and Babs.

To hurt Tim was to tear his life apart. How could Tim believe he'd ever harm the one good thing he'd managed not to fuck up?

"What are ya thinkin', gumshoe?"

Bruce didn't stop his _tap tap tap_ on the keyboard as he answered. "We need another opinion. Dimensional travel isn't something any of us have experience with."

"The Herald and Zatanna? You sure about them?"

"What about John Constantine?" Dick throws in, suspiciously quick. "Or Raven? If we need a magic user either will do."

Jason snorts," What's the matter, Big Bird? Afraid of a reunion with your ex-girlfriend?"

That earns him a pout. "Hey, I'm just trying to help."

"More like save your own skin. Was the break up that bad?" He doesn't press when Dick gives no answer, actually sympathetic. "Look, I just want whoever can give us answers. Preferably now."

"I concur," Damian sniffs indignantly. "The sooner this distraction is over, the better. Other matters deserve our attention."

Jason rolls his eyes and lowers his voice, focused on the screen but talking to Bruce while Dick distracts Damian for the next few minutes about casework. "Give it to me honestly. Ya think what Tim said is true?"

The man pauses in his typing this time, gaze fixed on another textfile reading **THE DISAPPEARANCE OF STEPHANIE BROWN**. "We're going to find out."

\---

Tim wakes up feeling groggy and too warm. Usually his apartment is very cold, something about the city's gloomy weather and heating bill being too high. Again he is met by confusion when he sees he is not in his room. It dawns on him the situation had not changed, this dream was infact not going away with a little rest. He sits up, spooked when an arm slips off his waist and into his lap. Turning his head reveals Jason sleeping beside him and Tim takes a second to appreciate the sight : how calm the elder boy appears, unmarred and not one of the undead.

He's still spinning with thoughts of this world. There are so many questions crowding the forefront of his mind that Tim can hardly string one coherent line together before it gets tangled in another.

"Baby?"

Tim nearly jumps out of his skin, refocusing on Jason's face to see sleep-clouded eyes blinking up at him. "Sorry," he mumbles.

The older boy manages to sit up - revealing he isn't wearing a shirt. Tim has only a second to feel mortified before a hand on his cheek diverts the panic momentarily. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I- no, I just -" He feels a little guilty for some reason when he shakes off the hand on his skin. Jason is warm, but unlike Conner who is warm like he's forever sunbathing ; Jason's skin against his own is foreign and Tim aches with the need to find his clone boy.

"Hey," Jason's voice is gentle as he tips his head. It reminds Tim of seeing the man as Robin when he was just a kid, still looking at heroes behind a camera lens. "S'okay. Just talk ta me."

This feels bizarre but Tim just nods and releases a slow, calming breath. "I was just thinking... about this universe."

Jason seems to wake up a little bit, eyes going squinty and pout in place on his lips. "So ya really ain't from this plane o' existence, huh?"

"I told you," annoyance at remembering the earlier dismissal," I don't belong here."

They stare at each other for a long moment, both assessing the other. Jason still has a skeptical glint to his eye but eventually he lets out a sigh and runs a hand through dark black hair. Tim can fathom the frustration (trying to convince Dick or Damian or ANYONE that Bruce was still alive that one time the Bat went on a little time travel roadtrip can strain a young man's patience) as this situation is a whole mess.

"Alright. So what do ya wanna know?"

A blink. Confusion - "What?"

"What do ya wanna know about this... place that ya somehow dun' belong in."

_That was quick_ , Tim thinks. The way Jason is smiling makes it appear that this is some kind of game of twenty questions. "You didn't die?"

He feels immediately bad for bringing it up but it's the first thing Tim thinks to say. Jason laughs, actually laughs at him. "Obviously since I'm sitting here with you. Glad I survived long enough to meet ya." There's a waggle of brows to accompany the words. "Next question."

"Uh, right. You said the," and Tim swallows nervously," Joker was dead?"

"Yeah, B saved me awhile back when I was still Robin. Guy died from a snapped neck but ya really shouldn't mention it infront o' the boss man. Makes him upset."

"The no killing code. Bruce never kills."

Jason nods, expression actually grim. "He lost it. He saw me and... well, the bastard had it coming."

Tim can't argue with that but the whole idea is still taboo, makes Tim feel like a criminal for even stepping foot in a universe where Batman would ever do such a thing. He shivers like a bad omen when saying, "Batman would never do that."

Jason gets this look in his eye, a dark glint of something he can't quite discern at the moment. "No, he wouldn't. Bruce did."

A long silence ensues. Tim is numb, contemplative yet also in denial. "Bet his grave is a controversial spot."

"No," Jason says slowly," he was cremated. But the ashes disappeared. B thinks it was -"

"Harley Quinn." It isn't hard to guess even without reasonable deductive skills. "She's the only one who would."

"Besides maybe one of his crazy followers."

"I thought that kinda was her cliché."

Jason's grin is rueful. "Yeah, kinda. Alright hotshot, gimme another."

"You're not Robin anymore?"

"Yeah, grew out of it. After the whole almost dying part of my life I stayed with Dickiebird for a bit while B..." Jason shrugs. "Got my own identity now. Red Robin."

Tim's eyes go wide. "Oh. That's, um, my codename currently."

"Huh," the laugh this time is fond," funny thing that is."

"So what -"

"Hang on." Tim blinks as Jason lies back down, hands behind his head although he's already lying on a pillow. "You've asked three questions. This genie has some too."

"A genie grants wishes, not questions."

"Whatever. Ya said you were dating the clone."

"Conner, Kon, Superboy."

A dismissive wave of the hand. "Right, Superboy. Why him?"

Tim blinks as if it were the oddest of questions to be asked. "I don't know. Just kind of happened... one minute we were bestfriends and the next..."

"You were lovers," Jason finishes. His tone suggests he's reading a line from a book or talking about a concept he's intimately familiar with. "In your world I'm what? An enemy?"

Tim shakes his head. "No. A..."

How is he supposed to explain this? It hurts in a strange way seeing this Jason so comfortable and easily embraced. His relationship with his world's Jason is complicated at best. They aren't enemies, not anymore at least. Yet, there had been a time where maybe... no, never an enemy.

"... brother. A lost and angry brother."

Jason is looking at him woefully. "Do ya think we could ever be more?"

"No," he sighs. "Truthfully no. You've come around a lot but something like that isn't for us - me and my world's Jason." He hesitates before saying," That's three."

"Okay, Sherlock." Jason's smile is back if a little fake. "Hit me."

"What, uh, about us - or - or about you and this place's me?" Tim is compelled to ask, wants to know and doesn't want to know at the same time. "How did we come to   
be?"

"Heh, thought ya'd never ask." Jason lights up at the subject change, delighted to string a tale of their ( _not ours but his and this other Tim's -_ ) relationship. "We met in college. Ya were this cute nerdy guy who sat in the front of the class with yer laptop and fuzzy sweaters that were a little too big to fit ya. At the time I was focusing on school, derailed a bit from cape crusading. You were really good with computers and offered tutoring so I took ya out for coffee and we fell in love. The end."

A snicker and roll of the eyes. "Nice story. But if I was never Robin..."

Jason wrinkles his nose," Yeah, never happened here. Ya were a damn good hacker and detective, impressed the shit out o' Bruce when ya told him ya knew he was Batman. His face was priceless! You've been a great help with Babs when she needs ya too."

They share a laugh and Tim can feel himself growing tired again. A digital alarm clock on a bedside table by Jason's side of the bed blinks a red _4:37am_ at him. He lies down again next to his bedmate, eyelids drooping. He has one last question. "Do you love him?"

Tim can't stop his eyes from closing, starting to drift off to sleep when he hears a whisper. "How couldn't I?"

\---

"Morning rollcall!" Jason yells unnecessarily.

Tim files in behind him, smiling warily. The kitchen has some extra people that didn't make an appearance last night in the cave when he'd arrived. Barbara Gordon sits   
neatly by the table without a wheelchair, Dick is standing just behind her while leaning casually on the back of her chair. Bruce, Damian and Cassandra, the quiet girl giving him a silent glance, are eating a delicious smelling breakfast as Alfred sets down the rest of the plates. It's pleasant and nice and everything a family is supposed to be (vigilante side jobs aside) gathered around the kitchen table.

Jason is pulling out a chair for him, what a gentleman, when it dawns on Tim - "Where's Steph?" 

Everyone is staring at him. Bruce's gaze is hard set, drawing his own attention. The looks the rest are giving him display confusion as if he just asked why they weren't wearing birthday hats.

"Who is Steph," Dick asks with an indulgent smile.

"Steph," Tim says it with an impatient huff. "Stephanie Brown. Who else would I be talking about?"

"Tim, baby, we don't know a Stephanie..."

He stares openly wide-eyed at the admission from Jason. "No... that can't -"

"Where did you hear that name," Bruce cuts him off sternly.

Everyone is looking at him and Tim's mind is yet again a mess of half-tangible thoughts. "Stephanie Brown. Spoiler, the fourth Robin, the third Batgirl, one of my good friends and, uh, exes." He sharply looks between Barbara and Cass," How do you two not know?"

Jason slowly moves towards him in concern. "There has only been three Robins and two Batgirls. Me, Dickie and the hellspawn," Damian barks a _Hey!_ at that," then Babs and Cass. There is no Stephanie Brown."

Bruce is suddenly on his feet, pushing passed Jason to firmly grab him by the shoulders. The Batman expression is back, eyes trying to figure him out like a puzzle made of razor blades. "What do you know about her? Where is she?"

"Master Bruce," Alfred interrupts," perhaps we should all be seated and talk this through calmly."

They do, everyone is sitting and listening to Tim painting a picture of sweet smiling Stephanie Brown. He gives her description : butter blonde hair, crystal blue eyes reminiscent of spring river water and pouty lips. He talks about her skill and personality, of her friendship with him and Cass and Babs and the rest.

"She threw a brick at you?" Dick cackles.

"Yeah. Don't any of you know her...?"

He was rewarded with sympathetic looks all around the table. Bruce is watching him critically, waiting for the right opportunity to speak. "She's missing."

"What?" Tim's heart gives a painful lurch.

Gotham is a cruel mistress, has been known to take the lives of her residents without mercy. All of Batman's sidekicks and collaborates have suffered at her hands before, including Stephanie. He thinks back on her bruised flesh from a hard won fight, of her saving him more than once from a fatal mistake, of her faked death with the assistance of Dr. Leslie Thompkins when he had mourned her.

"I got her report from her father -"

"Cluemaster," he finishes and Bruce looks openly surprised. "She's his daughter."

"You didn't say anything to me," Barbara says reproaching.

"Her disappearance is under... unexplainable circumstances. One day she just disappeared... some time after I spotted her in a purple suit trying to assist me."

Tim jumped in at that. "So she is Spoiler!"

"Sorry guys but I don't understand what's happening." Dick scratched the back of his neck, face contorted in bemusement.

"Tim can help me find her."

"How? You agreed that he's not from our timeline or whatever," Dick reminded.

"That may be in your favor," Tim's mind is speed racing, trying to decipher the situation more closely. "Events have happened in my universe that haven't here. I have knowledge none of you could know. I know about Steph, her life and the things that happened as a result of her being a part of our group."

"Which could give us a clue of her whereabouts," Babs finishes for him. "Who would take her?"

Tim makes a face, thinking. "The usual people we face. Riddler, Penguin..." He almost says Joker but stops himself. Then he pales. "Black Mask."

There's a flash of a conversation, the subject of facial reconstruction surgery. He can still hear Dr. Thompkins explaining how the plan had gone, what Stephanie had to go through so that others would not follow. Tim also remembers the relief he'd felt at seeing her face again.

"Black Mask has gone underground," Damian intones with insufferable boredom. "No one has heard from him in nearly half a year."

"Most of our usual band of misfits have gone underground," Dick reminds him. "Ever since... uh..." The incident with the Joker goes unsaid.

"Could be cooking something," Jason pitches in to move the conversation forward," under all our noses. Could be something way bigger than a missing person's case."

"She's not the only one missing," Barbara informs," The Birds and I have been looking into a big trafficking ring with ties to Gotham's underground. Catwoman told me she's heard from another informant that Mother may be back."

"A team up?" Dick grimaces while questioning.

"It's a possibility. Villain team ups are rare but do happen on occasion, definitely not unheard of in Gotham of all places."

"Until they start stabbing each other," Jason mutters.

"What's your report on her?" Tim asks Bruce.

He's surprised by the long pause at first. Bruce is usually quick at giving him the information he needs, case sharing and even entrusting him to do most of the intel work. That is until he remembers here he is not Red Robin but Tim and just Tim.

"... Went missing a week and three days ago. Last seen in her civilian identity crossing into Gotham Mercy General Hospital in Burnley. She was wearing dark jeans, a heavy navy blue sweater and carrying a small white handbag. Current whereabouts unknown."

"Were you able to get any insight on why she was visiting the hospital?" Tim asks even if he already has a theory - a theory that brings more dread, worry and urgency.

"She saw a private doctor that specializes in OBGYN care. I wasn't able to obtain private records."

Tim has only a moment to dawdle on whether Bruce is telling the truth or unwilling to give out further private knowledge. "Not even a pregnancy appointment?"

It's silent. The room is deathly quiet, Bruce's eyes are hard. "... was she pregnant in your dimension?"

"Yes."

"Fuck," Jason swears. "They abducted a pregnant girl?"

"Language, Master Jason."

"Sorry, Alf." Jason turns to Bruce. "When were ya gonna say anything?"

"Soon. I was still gathering information."

"On a time sensitive case instead of calling all hands on deck? Bullsh-"

"Master Jason."

"Bull. I'm calling it. Straight bull."

"I was going to debrief after I -"

"Is this about me? Ya don't want me coming out of retirement still because of the whole Felipe fiasco and the Joker?" Jason interrupts again angrily, the first real glimpse of the Jason Todd that Tim knows from his world. "That why ya haven't said anything?"

"Hang on, Jay." Dick tries to intervene but the former Robin is having none of it.

Jason's glare is all too familiar to Tim : full of intensity, anger and betrayal. "Screw this." In typical Jason Todd fashion, he's standing and out of the kitchen, leaving half a plate of pancakes behind. The table goes sullen and silent, Bruce's brooding palpable.

"Glad to see the family drama hasn't changed," Tim mutters.

"Go talk to him," Cass quietly speaks and, wow, he almost forgot she was even there.

"Me? Why me?" Cass gives him the most deadpan look and then does he remember - "Oh, right. I'm, uh, supposed to be the boyfriend. I'm just gonna..."

Tim excuses himself awkwardly, hardly daring to look anyone in the eye as he moves to follow after the angered man. He expects Jason to have gone down to the cave to blow off some steam against the punching bag but finds it empty. Instead he finds the peeved batboy in Jason's bedroom, pacing and obviously frustrated. Jason is in the middle of a rant, a hand rushing through his dark hair (devoid of the white streak which startles Tim every time he notices) when Tim closes the door.

"- can't trust me? Every time I think things are resolved he always throws it back in my face!" Tim watches warily, hand still on the doorknob in case he needs to bolt or default this to Alfred. Finally Jason sits on the bed with a huff, turning a defeated gaze onto him. "I'm sorry."

He takes a moment to think over his approach before moving to sit beside the other. "It's, uh, okay? I don't know what to say."

"Bruce is just...," an aggravated sigh. "I wish he would forgive me already."

"For Felipe? The rapist?"

Jason hums and - _woah!_ \- almost gives him a heart attack when the bigger male flops sideways to pillow a head onto his lap. "That and everything else. His guilt for the Joker just bubbles up like cancer and I wonder..."

"Wonder what?"

The voice that answers him is grim. "If he regrets saving me."

"No," Tim blurts. "No... Bruce would never regret saving you. Regret having killed the Joker but never about not letting you die."

Tim knows this as fact. His version of Bruce lives every day wishing he'd saved his second ward, the boy wonder who was murdered. Tim has lived in that shadow from day one, had envied and been awed by Jason, has walked passed the old suit display of Jason's Robin uniform more times than he can count. And... since when did his hand start carding through silky dark locks?

He blinks down once registering the motion. Embarrassed, he moves to pull his hand away but Jason makes a sound of protest. "Dun' stop," a slurred speech reaches Tim's ears," feels good. Love when ya do that."

He didn't have the heart to stop the soothing gesture after that sweet request.

\---

Meanwhile in the Batcave :

"So are we just going to not talk about this or...?"

Barbara sighed, tapping her fingers against her hip, ignoring Dick for the moment. "What are you thinking, Bruce? How can we trust him?"

Bruce sits at the Batcomputer, suit on but cowl down, face on display. There's a familiar furrow to his brow that tells the former Robin and Batgirl that he's thinking hard. "We can save her."

"That's not what I asked."

Dick waves his hands uselessly. "Come on, Bruce, you're the smart man here! Shouldn't you be, I don't know, lecturing us all about the dangers of time travel or alternate dimensions or something?"

"There will be repercussions," Babs warns.

"Do you think he has ill will?"

"What?"

"Do you think," Bruce repeats in the Batman voice, all gravel and no nonsense," he has ill will?"

"I," Babs stops, isn't certain of how to answer. "I haven't interacted with him enough to be sure. He seems like the Tim we all know."

"Except he isn't," Dick reminds his girlfriend with a shrug.

She shoots him an annoyed look. "We're forgetting the point here. Just because he's telling the truth doesn't mean we should follow it. He's not supposed to be here in the first place. This isn't information we should be receiving and has a high possibility of giving us bad news later. Meddling with people's futures is a big no-no. It can have major consequences we can't account for until it's already too late."

"But if we don't we may not save this girl."

"Whose side are you on?" She snaps, arms crossing and hip cocked.

Dick holds up his hands defensively. "No one's! I just... want to help. Devil's advocate and all."

"I'm making the call," Bruce, no, **Batman** , says decisively. "He'll help us find her and then we'll send him home."

Barbara and Dick share a long glance, worry and reluctant acceptance clear.

\---

It takes three days but Tim (with combined back up by Jason and Dick) convinces Bruce to allow him down in the Batcave again to use the Batcomputer. It's a relief to be able to go through the archives and find what he needs firsthand. As a "tech guy" (Conner thinks he's hilarious coining that particular nickname) there is nothing more calming than the sound of clacking keys and memorized movements of his fingertips easily skipping over the keyboard. What he finds is exactly as Bruce had said : camera footage of Stephanie visiting Gotham's General Hospital, a description of what she'd worn on her trip and a small catalog of whom she'd seen. There is no sign of the pregnancy being documented, leaving him to suspect that an encryption is hiding further information within the file. Tim hesitates to hack anything, not wanting to gain mistrust from the others considering his precarious situation but at the same time itching to uncover the secrets just out of reach.

Instead he takes stock of Stephanie's image on screen : her belly hidden but Tim can tell she is starting to show and estimates she's at least four or five months along. Her hair is up in a ponytail, her stride confident despite the stress pinched between her pursed lips. She is beautiful even now, knows from his past that in a month or two her ankles will start to swell and ache, her craving for ice cream will be insatiable yet her skin will somehow continue to glow.

Tim distracts himself further by pulling up Black Mask's file. It reads similar to the one back in his dimension : Roman Sionis known as Black Mask, major drug lord that dabbles in other crimes such as murder, current status underground and whereabouts unknown. The only difference is in Tim's plane of existence the man is dead, killed by Catwoman after Stephanie's supposed murder. There isn't much to go on with this intel, leaving him vexed.

_If Steph is in real danger then there is no time to waste._

"Find anything?"

Tim isn't surprised (it's a lie he jumped a bit) when a sudden weight makes the chair creak. "Not sure yet. I'm still trying to decipher the differences."

Cassandra has an arm braced on the back of the chair while reading over his shoulder. She is quiet grace and lethal, beautiful in a way that is captivating and deadly. Tim finds it hard not to glance at her as he taps a few keys in to view another profile of Mother that Barbara kindly forwarded.

"You know her well?"

Small talk isn't Cass's forte but Tim finds the familiarity comforting as she tries. "I did. So did you."

There's a long pause, not unusual of the bred assassin. "What are we like?"

"Well, Bruce is just as headstrong and Dick is just as ridiculous," a quiet laugh can be heard, making him smile, "and Alfred's cooking is the same, always delicious. Babs is... paralyzed, she's in a wheelchair. And... Alfred doesn't look as old and Bruce never..."

"Killed."

Tim swallows thickly and nods. "Damian is a bigger entitled brat and Jason, well, died then, um, came back to life. Long story. He and I don't exactly have the best track record. He's tried to kill me before. I know that must be shocking considering in this world we're actually, uh, together."

"He loves you." The way she says it is automatic. Like it's truth, like it's fact.

Tim doesn't know how to respond. He hesitates with the next thing he wants to say. "You loved her."

There is silence and only because he's known Cass for a few years does Tim register it as searching for a lie. All he can offer is honesty. "I loved her," she echoes with an unreadable emotion.

He nods. "Yeah, you two were something else. Even I never made her that happy."

"You loved her?"

"At one point, I did. We're more very close friends now, we're family."

The next pregnant pause holds suspicion. "You impregnate her?"

"N-No!" He sputters, shaking his head. "It was an ex-boyfriend of hers. She... she put the baby up for adoption. I was just there for her."

The tell-tale roar of the Batmobile cuts off further conversation. Another roar comes from the source of two motorbikes, one sleek black belonging to Jason and the other a dark aqua with twin neon blue striped symbols on the sides, a signature of Nightwing. The latter two turn to greet the others waiting there as Batman and Robin exit the   
Batmobile.

"How were rounds?"

"The usual," Jason answers after removing his cowl and isn't that the weirdest sight for Tim : seeing Jason Todd wearing the Red Robin uniform. "Find anything on your end?"

"Not much. Subtle differences but nothing concrete." Tim's lips thin, thinking. "I haven't heard from O either."

"Don't worry about her," Dick winks. "I'll be stopping by her place after a shower."

"Now isn't the time for hanky panky, Big Bird." Jason snickers as a shoulder is playfully shoved. "We're already behind. No distractions."

Damian makes his unmistakable - _tt_ \- before gliding passed his seniors. "No need. Father and I have fruitful news."

Bruce approaches him without the cowl, the way he's looking at Tim makes him shrink under the scrutiny. "Cluemaster received a ransom note."

"What?" Dick asks as Tim's stomach drops. "From who?"

"Black Mask. It seems Drake's suspicions were correct."

His eyes flicker between his mentor and the son. "What did it say?"

"To hand over the money he stole. Supposedly she's being held by Mother in Monaco in an illegal brothel house. Oracle is trying to get the location now. We leave as soon as we can."

"Shit," Jason curses. "Jetlag is gonna be a bitch."

"Language," Bruce admonishes as he focuses on the computer screen. "Alfred is waiting to improvise a suit for you when you're ready."

"Me...?"

"Yes," he fixes his sights on Tim. "You."

The others are looking at them now and Jason isn't particularly happy. "Why would he need a suit? I'll drop him off with Babs and -"

"I'm coming with you," Tim interrupts matter-of-factly. "I have to."

"Baby, I know ya wanna help but -"

"Stop! Just stop!" Tim isn't angry, really he's not. But all these feelings he's having are mixed and disorienting like the way Jason's hurt puppy dog face makes him feel horrifically guilty. It's all too much, he wants to call out for Conner, however, fear for what may result if he does seals his lips. "I'm not your Tim. I'm not just some computer nerd that happens to be your boyfriend. _I'm_ not even _your_ boyfriend! I'm going to help you because I am the only one here with any idea of what we're walking into."

It's totally not a tantrum he's just thrown. He is justified and frustrated with the whole circumstance. He wants to go home.

To make matters worse, Jason is silent. He says nothing in rebuttal, instead he turns and walks back towards his bike. Dick is on his heels, talking in a soft voice but he still peels out without a word. It twists the guilt already sourly sitting on his soul yet Tim doesn't know what else he can do. This scene is such a contrast to earlier, of his fingers combing through coconut smelling hair and quiet conversation.

Damian is giving him an appraising look before turning away and going upstairs, Cass leaves with him. He wants to curl up and disappear when his gaze lands on Dick and Bruce. There is disappointment, something he hates warranting, especially from them.

Dick opens his mouth to say something but a magically appearing Alfred cuts him off. "We understand what you're feeling, Master Timothy, but I don't think yelling at Master Jason is going to help."

His heart sinks yet Bruce takes a step forward and places a strong hand on his shoulder, as if willing strength and comfort simply through touch. "He'll come to understand. For now let's you and I talk privately."

Alfred discreetly herds Dick out of the cave to give them space. Tim immediately relinquishes his seat for his mentor before speaking. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"It will be fine. Jason will come back. When we send you home and get back the Tim Drake from this universe, he will understand. For now I need your help."

Tim takes a moment to breathe deeply, letting his thoughts fall into place. "Black Mask took Stephanie before to get back at the Batman. He... slashed her face, she almost died. He was killed by Catwoman in my universe."

"Selina?" Bruce's tone suggests surprise, if well-hidden.

"Yes," he continues," but now is different. For one, Black Mask went underground which is already uncharacteristic considering his pride here in Gotham. Secondly, he is involving himself with Mother, an uncanny team up for an uncanny purpose. You said he sent Cluemaster a ransom note. Since when is that Black Mask's MO? If he wanted to get something as minimal as money then why not send his usual band of armed men for a shakedown?"

Bruce sighs. "Cluemaster says he made a deal with Black Mask for a loan. It was more than just money."

"What else did he ask for?"

Bruce's pause is lengthy. "Drugs."

Tim isn't surprised. The Cluemaster he knows isn't someone he particularly finds fondness for ; the Stephanie he knows wasn't much inclined either. The mention of drugs is strange since Arthur Brown was always more of an alcoholic from what he remembered. "Back to his old ways then. Except now his daughter's neck is on the line."

Cluemaster's file appears with a few finger swipes. Tim pays attention to what he's about to be told, reading the contents he hasn't managed to read yet. "He reformed after the death of his wife from a drug overdose when his daughter was eight. Although he struggled with alcoholism for another two years, I discreetly got him a job with one of the branch companies under Wayne Enterprises. I thought he was doing well."

Tim hears it for what it is. "You gave him the best opportunity you could, Bruce."

"It still wasn't enough. I stopped monitoring him around the time Damian came."

"You mean sprouted from a hole in the ground like a gremlin?"

Bruce makes the face of someone who is trying not to be amused by something they clearly shouldn't be amused by. "You're not that different than the Tim Drake who Jason fell in love with."

His cheeks flush, remembering Cass's earlier words. _He loves you_. "But I'm not him."

Bruce hums, gaze contemplative. "I believe you."

_I hope so_. Tim thinks with worry. _You're the only one who can help me_.

\---

Jason drives. He never stops, hardly blinks as he flies through the streets of Gotham and into more secluded roads outside the city limits. He won't go far but enough to clear his head. The bike hums under his hands, a vehicle he'd made piece for piece with scavenged parts and his own skills ; the same bike he'd taken Tim on their first date with.

He revs the engine, gritting his teeth, grips the handles hard to the point of his knuckles creaking. How could he ever come to peace with this?

Tim is his world. Perhaps that isn't healthy, being attached and dependent on another for happiness but, goddamnit, Jason never said he wasn't pathetic. He, and arguably everyone within the Wayne family, adopted or not, values family more than anything. Tim is his family, since college when they started geeking out about shared interests, when he'd taken Tim on their first date to a corner coffeehouse on this very bike, solidified as they started dating and got an apartment together and later when they had moved to Japan. Jason has invested his adult life to being with Tim, making Tim happy, living in peace with Tim.

He revs the engine again and keeps driving.

\---

Bruce escorts Tim to a spare room Alfred has developed into a fix-it station. There are fabrics, needles and a sewing machine neatly sorted at first glance, a survival nest for ripped and stained clothes. The butler ushers him infront of a triangle mirror set for a fitting after Bruce departs.

Alfred wastes no time in using a measuring tape, starts on Tim's arms with a huff, slower because of a stooped back and old age. Bony fingers straighten his back, the tips apply light pressure to get him to turn. The silence isn't awkward but he isn't blind to Alfred's quiet disapproval of his reaction that sent Jason away. Tim is sure in every universe anyone would cower under the scrutiny and displeasure of Wayne Manor's butler.

"... are you going to lecture me now?"

Alfred does his little huff again, placing the tape measure on a nearby table. "I'm sure you know what you did wrong, Master Timothy."

Sheepishly," I do... I didn't mean to. It just sort of came out."

The elder nods mutely, smooths out a white sheet of paper. "I can only fathom your predicament and frustration. I know Master Jason can be quite... stubborn and bull-headed but I would ask that you please be patient with him. You must understand that his feelings for you - for the Master Timothy he knows is strong."

Tim walks closer to the blank parchment, watches Alfred write in neat lettering his measurements in the margins. "I really am sorry. I'll try to apologize." He hesitates before asking," He's coming back, right?"

"Of course," Alfred's voice sounds positive of that," Master Jason will return after a nightly cruise. He always does."

"I... I would like to move into my own room until I return home, if I may."

Alfred doesn't seem fazed by the request. "I will have a guest room prepared for you after we are done here. Now," he turns sharp eyes onto Tim expectantly and offers the pencil he has in hand," about your costume design."

\---

The Manor is quiet when Jason returns. He expects everyone is resting up for the long plane ride to Monaco, knows no one (but Dick who can sleep just about anywhere the weirdo) will be able to sleep during the flight.

He makes it a couple of steps before stopping and tenses, feels eyes on him. He relaxes when he realizes there is only two people who would still be awake, would be waiting for him at this hour. "Cass."

"Jason."

"Ya goin' to hide in the dark forever?"

The slender form materializes by the stairs, gaze unblinking. "Okay?"

Jason sighs, runs a hand through his helmet hair with a shrug. "Sort of. Maybe. Probably not?" Her gaze is sorrowful at his answer so he comes closer to pull her into a one-armed embrace. "I'm okay, baby sister. This will all blow over. We should go upstairs an' sleep before we all head out."

Cass turns her pretty eyes up at him. "Sleep?"

He smiles, winks. "Yeah, sleep. I'll see ya in a couple hours. Let's try to be quiet when we go up, though. Despite pretending we are bats, most o' us don't sleep like the dead."

She smiles and follows him up, both stopping short when they see Tim about to enter a room that is definitely not Jason's. "Uh," Tim looks between them, wide-eyed.

Jason sighs, pats the hand Cass lays on his arm in reassurance. "Go ahead, I'll see ya soon." Cass silently moves forward, nodding to Tim as she passes to disappear into her room down the hall. He licks his lips, approaches slowly. "Hey. What are ya doin' out here?"

"Um..." Tim shifts nervously, hand on the doorknob but doesn't bolt inside just yet. "I asked for a separate room."

Jason opens his mouth, flounders for something to say. He doesn't want to be angry but a strange, hurt part of his brain makes him feel like he should be. "Oh," is all he manages to say, tries not to look as pained as he feels.

"Yeah... just for a little bit. Until, um, we get everything sorted out."

Jason nods absently, chin jerking. "Sure. Some space. I get it. Just remember I'm not that far if ya need anythin'."

Tim smiles, face softening. "Goodnight, Jason."

He smothers the urge to reach over and kiss Tim. "Goodnight. See ya in a couple hours."

> [NorthWest of Opéra de Monte-Carlo, Monaco]

It's barely been two hours since the group arrived and Jason has smoked a pack and a half of cigarettes looking like he's five seconds away from jumping out the window. Bruce has told him to sit still at least six times already but the young man can hardly control himself to obey for more than two minutes. The hotel is decent, all of them checked in under aliases and dressed to the nines in disguises. They are all on edge, waiting for the last rays of sunlight to disappear and be replaced by moonlight. The location is close, Tim's fingers twitch at the anticipation of finally getting a taste of vigilantism life again after being benched since his arrival.

Eventually Bruce takes pity on them all and orders," Suit up."

Despite the situation, Tim is giddy to show off the suit. Alfred had taken his measurements and special care of making his uniform ; he'd even let Tim help design it. The moment he steps out of the bathroom ready to kick some ass, he hears Dick let out a whistle. "You look great, Tim!"

Cass smiles at him, still unmasked and Bruce is standing next to her, smiling as well. His eyes catch Jason's, the latter of which appears conflicted. Jason's eyes trail over the black sleek costume that's missing a cape (he finds he **really** likes the boots however), pausing on the yellow outlined gauntlets and utility belt before landing on the black helmet in Tim's hands. "You look... dolled up. What's with the biker helmet... looks a little like the, uh..." He glances at Bruce, unwilling to say the next bit.

"Red Hood but smaller and black? I know. Aesthetic choice."

Jason snorts but offers up nothing else. Dick decides to speak. "So what do we call you in the field?"

Tim can't help but grin. He'd put a lot of thought into deciding a codename. "Grackle."

There's another snort, louder this time, and Damian's usual - _tt_ -. "Of course. The bird theme must be upheld afterall."

"I'm calling you G for short," Dick announces happily.

"Move out." Bruce orders after pulling on the cowl and is the first to exit via window.

The cover of night acts as a shield to any wandering eyes as one by one they make their way out to start their mission. Tim breathes in the chilly air, senses kicking up dust off his instincts as he shadows Red Robin (and wow that is going to make his mind reel every time) and Batgirl (Cass is wearing a different suit, more dark grey than the original he is accustomed to) leaping between rooftops. This isn't Gotham, that part is obvious. Precaution to stay out of sight is crucial and includes barely touching the ground where the streetlights illuminate the pavement below. Tim can hardly take a breath before he's propelling himself forward again across the landscape. It is exhausting as it is exhilarating to fly again as a flock. Batman leads, Nightwing on his left and Robin on his right, synchronous. Adrenaline keeps Tim focused but a twinge of impatience battles for the forefront of his mind.

He's worried : about Stephanie and Jason and how he's going to get back home to Conner. He misses unearthly blue eyes and the smell of straw and sunshine and the always warm temperature of tan skin.

He blinks and realizes his vision is a little blurry and wet.

"Team One take the back right. Team Two with me on the south corner."

Grackle's movements are fluid, with a practiced ease that makes Jason pause. Cass nudges him onward before taking the lead. Jason has so many inquiries pertaining to how the hell does Tim know what to do. He concedes to ask questions at a later date, perturbed but focused at the task at hand. There is a girl that needs saving and Jason feels the familiar rush that comes with being a vigilante ; he distantly wonders if Tim is experiencing the same feeling.

All three drop through a chimney shaft of all things, soot and ash smearing their boots. Thankfully the building is quiet and dimly lit, no one is around to see them fumble to clean off the residue to avoid leaving telling footprints in their wake. Tim sticks to the shadows as he's been taught while Cass moves the small group forward in what should be an abandoned building ; for the purpose of their visit they know it's not. The further down they travel, the more ominous the atmosphere becomes. The hairs on the back of his neck standing on end is the only warning Tim gets before Batman is suddenly beside him ; he'd feel more annoyed if he wasn't also relieved to see the man clad in darkness.

"Oracle?"

There's static in all their ears before Barbara's voice filters through. "Hostiles ahead."

"How many?"

"More than four at the very least. I have only one camera inside and it's an old piece of hardware. Hacking into it was enough of a chore but the grainy image feed is a mess to make out. I'm trying to enhance it now."

"No time," Red Robin hisses. "Tonight it's all or nothin'. When Old Man Clue doesn't show up for what he promised in the next ten minutes that girl is gonna die."

"Sorry O," Nightwing amends somewhere from the rafters behind Grackle. "But Red here has a point. We're pressed for time. B?"

The night vision from within the eye sockets of his helmet allows Tim to see the intimidating form of the Batman clearly. He can't see the emotion behind the cowl but years of partnering with Bruce (with his Bruce at least) combined with natural detective skills tells him that he's being tested. "Your call, Grackle."

Tim pauses, assessing the options. The silence stretches, anticipation apparent as everyone waits for his answer. "We move," he ultimately decides. "Fast and hard before they can group together and then find whoever we can save."

"Fast and hard, huh?" Tim can hear the smirk in Jason's tone without needing to glance and confirm its existence. "Just my kink."

"Good," Tim deadpans, "because you're taking the lead."

"God, I love you." He doesn't have more than a second to be embarrassed about the declaration before Red Robin is running face first into danger. Batman quickly joins the fray, helping to kick in the double doors that separate them from their foes. Batgirl is not far behind and Grackle is momentarily surprised when he is flanked by Nightwing and Robin respectively.

Red Robin easily punches out two armed men, Batman covering for him when a woman with a knife tries to intervene. Batgirl single-handedly knocks the biggest bloke of the bunch out, a man as big as a gorilla with a severe underbite. Nightwing and Robin fight in sync, barely giving Grackle any time or space to play the offensive. Frustrated at being denied the simple satisfaction of a real fight, Grackle bypasses them both to tackle a lanky guy brandishing a rusty short sword. The tip of the weapon nearly collides with his nose and he has only a split second to act before the dazed look dissipates from the man. He makes quick work of disarming the henchman, sliding the threat to a far corner and presses a nerve in his opponent's neck to send the other unconscious.

It is quick, over too soon and that should tip them all off.

Grackle motions for Red Robin to move ahead toward the adjoining room. It's deemed clear and the group makes a silent trek through the double doors leading to the lowest sub-level. It is eerily quiet, even for them. There is no banter to cover the awaiting silence and where are all of Black Mask's and Mother's goons anyway?

Batgirl brings up the rear, trailing slightly behind Robin and Nightwing. It takes a moment for Grackle to realize that she is paused a couple of steps up. He halts, tapping Red Robin's shoulder as their line stops. He waits a moment before speaking," Batgirl?"

"Something," she begins, her voice a dour murmur.

She's cut off by the bang of the top heavy metal doors slamming closed. A fearful suspicion overtakes Grackle, knowing they have been trapped inside the building. They have been found out, something that is obvious when the sound of chains can be heard sealing their fate. It is a frustrating realization but Batman, forever unafraid and determined to finish the mission, squeezes passed his two protégés to slip down the rest of the stairs and Red Robin moves to shadow him, enlisting the rest to follow.

"O?" Nightwing calls out quietly.

There is no answer. The vigilante curses and Grackle privately theorizes that a transmitter jammer is blocking any outgoing signal. They are trapped without any technical support, just their luck.

They reach the sub-level floor and are greeted by an unfriendly face. "Black Mask," Batman growls.

The smoker's laugh of the villain sends a chill down Grackle's spine. His eyes dart across the large basement dwelling but there is no hostage, only twenty men heavily armed with artillery fire and mean smiles. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think you stood me up. Leave it to the Bat to be fashionably late the one time you don't want him to."

"Where is she?" Grackle interjects impatiently and doesn't care that a twinge of grim fear laces each word.

"She? Let me guess," Black Mask intones without humor," the pretty blonde? And who the hell are you?"

"Answer the question, Tar-Face."

Black Mask's stoic charred expression turns livid at Red Robin's provocation. "I hate you bats. Tearing up my hard work... sticking your noses where they don't belong. RUINING MY BUSINESS!"

"So this is revenge?"

"Of course this is revenge," snipes the incited man. "Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, stands in my fucking way!"

Robin sniffs indignantly. "I am tired of your gripe. Hand over the woman."

"You don't get it, do you?" And suddenly there is glee mixed into the fire of those manic eyes.

A cold epiphany makes something in Grackle's stomach drop. "We were set up."

"Score for the newbie. There was no kidnapping. You were conned, ripped off, sent into a deathtrap."

"By who?" Robin growls. "Who is the fool who betrayed us!"

As if summoned, Arthur Brown trudges into the room through a secret door. Batman's mouth is in a grimace yet not surprised. Grackle can't say he is either but that still leaves a question. "Where is Stephanie Brown? Where is your daughter?"

"Home. I... I didn't want her to get hurt."

"You've been in on this from the beginning," Red Robin accuses. "The kidnapping, the missing person's report. Shoulda known ya weren't ready to give up the villain life."

Cluemaster only has eyes for Batman however. "I'm sorry."

"Stop this now before it's too late." Batman's stern voice commands all attention. He is an intimidating force, standing straight and tall in all his dark glory.

"I can't." Brown's voice shakes and visibly clenches his hands into fists. "It's already too late."

"That's right. The end of the Bat and his little family," Black Mask laughs," courtesy of the Black Mask. Bring me their heads, boys. I want to see each and every one of these little shits dead on the ground." The sound of sick laughter echoes off the cement walls.

It's interrupted by the barking laugh of Red Robin.

Everyone in the room startles at the noise ; except Batman because, well, he's Batman. "That's it? That's the big finale?" Red Robin is bent over holding his stomach in the middle of hysterics. Grackle feels a fleeting surge of annoyance but quickly recognizes what this is : Jason Todd's classic approach to stalling. "I thought you of all nefarious villains woulda had a bigger showdown than this."

"Shut up," hissed the drug lord. "I'm no Joker. Ever since the Batman killed the clown the whole Gotham underground has been near silent and in terror. I'm taking it back, I'm setting the true Gotham free again. Black Mask will be the new savior. I'll be the King and all of Gotham will bow to me."

"The new monarch," drawled Red Robin. "Long live the king."

"With you gone, I will. And there won't be no after party for your corpses."

"You're not even going to kill us in Gotham? No audience? No big bang? You may not be the Joker but this is certainly lackluster even for you."

"I'm not painting you as a band of martyrs. I'm the liberator," Black Mask howled. "You're going to die here. To Gotham you'll disappear and while crime runs free **_I_** will take control. Everyone will think Batman and his crew abandoned the city. All hope will eventually die when you never return."

"I have to say that is a decent diabolical plan," Nightwing admits with a shrug.

"Just whose side are ya on, N?" Red Robin complains rather loudly.

"I'm just saying -"

"Shut up," Black Mask rolls his eyes as he speaks. "You batboys always talk."

An explosion bursts open the double doors and fills the room with smoke. The trained vigilantes know an opportunity when they see one and spring into action, catching their adversaries off guard amidst the distraction. They aren't fast enough to stop a few from opening gunfire but the bullets are swallowed by dark purple light as Raven's silhouette breaks through the grey veil.

"Raelc eht ekoms!"

The smoke finally thins and dissipates, revealing Zatanna and Huntress, the latter which has joined Batgirl in subduing Black Mask. Red Robin walks over to the captured villain, nudging a charred skeletal cheek with the tip of a boot while sporting a smug smirk. "We batboys also have backup. Great timing, Huntress."

The young woman in black and purple smiles at him. "Who else was going to bail you guys out of trouble."

Batman stood over a cowering Arthur Brown. "I'm sorry," the man whispered brokenly, "I'm sorry."

"... I'll take care of him. The rest of you call this in and get packed. We head back in the morning."

"What about Stephanie?" Grackle can't stop the anxiety in his voice.

"We'll get to her when we return," the big bat answers.

"Please," Mr. Brown starts to plead," she didn't have anything to do with this. She didn't know, I acted alone. Please, my little girl is pregnant. I just didn't want her to get hurt. This was the only way."

"So Black Mask did threaten her."

"Yes," is the hoarse confirmation. "It's my fault. I played along to the plan to protect her. He killed Mother -"

"Killed her?" Nightwing echoes, now giving the man some of his attention.

The man in question nods solemnly, face coiled into a grimace. "Showed me her head... and nothing else. He used her prostitutes to spread rumors through Gotham... false intel... to lure you all in. I just... wanted to keep my daughter safe."

"I know I might regret asking this but... where's the body?"

"In the ocean or so he said." Arthur's eyes bore into the eyes of the cowl. "Please. Please, don't blame her. Tell her : daddy is sorry."

Grackle honestly feels bad. The Cluemaster from his world wouldn't have cared this much, would have never given up so much for his daughter.

"... it's time to go," Batman announces, hauling the father up by his arm.

"Zatanna," Nightwing takes the time to greet feebly as he finishes with the last ziptie. "Hey Rae. Thanks for showing up."

The first woman, Zatanna, raises an eyebrow. "Hello. Been awhile."

"Hate to cut the reunion short," Oracle's voice cuts in, mostly static in all their earpieces. "But I have Monaco police force on their way, on sight in fifteen minutes."

"Glad ta have ya back in our ears," Red Robin says. "Any way ya could give us a little direction?"

"You need to go up and East, take the long way around. There's a side street that should take you to a more secluded area with less light and more hiding spaces."

"Thanks pretty lady," Red Robin turns to regard everyone else. "Like B said earlier : it's time to go."

> [Scrappy Apartment #D15, Gotham]

"Do you want something to drink?" Stephanie Brown asks, voice dull and face etched with sadness.

Tim doesn't blame her, wants to reach out to offer comfort but is also acutely aware of how much of a stranger he is in her home. "No, thank you."

She doesn't stop stirring her tea, allows Tim to sit in the silence of her pain. Eventually the young girl takes a seat across from him at a dingy kitchen table. He notes that Stephanie looks nearly the same as he'd always known her to be except less cheerful with dark bags under her eyes as if she hasn't been sleeping. Her belly is slightly extended, the baby inside steadily growing but the bare cupboards and almost empty fridge are cause for concern.

Bruce Wayne clears his throat after politely sipping at a glass of water. "I understand this is a difficult time for you."

"You are my dad's boss," Stephanie plainly says, no sugar coating necessary. "Why are you here?"

Bruce and Tim share a look. "He expressed his concern for you and divulged some... sensitive information. When I learned of his arrest I paid him a visit and worked out a solution to ease his mind while he serves his time."

"Being?"

Tim speaks, eyes earnest. "Come live at the Manor. We can take care of everything, you, the baby."

The clink of a cup on wood and the widening of eyes show clear surprise. "You want me to come live with you? At Wayne Manor? With you?"

Bruce's smile is kind, eyes taking on that fatherly look Tim had strived for when he'd been Robin. "Yes. I made your father a promise to look after you and I would like to keep it. But it is still your decision, your choice."

"What do you want in return," Stephanie asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion and a touch of nervousness.

"Nothing," Bruce calmly replies. At the girl's pursed lips, he elaborates. "I just want you to be safe, your baby to be safe. Your father is a good man who has made poor choices but he and I both have agreed that neither you or the baby needs to pay for it. I'm extending my hand to you because I want to help you."

Stephanie watches his face for a moment, assessing the truth before turning a scrutinizing gaze on Tim. "And you?"

_Because I know you_ , he wants to say, _because I loved you. Because we're like family. Because I made a promise to be there when you needed me and you did the same_. He doesn't say any of this, knows that the Tim Drake of this world hasn't met her. By saving her, however, will now align Stephanie Brown with the Batfamily as it should be : he knows the Tim from this universe will befriend her easily. "Because it's the right thing to do."

He holds his breath and feels his heart lift at her nod, accepting his answer.

"Let's pack your things," Bruce suggests lightly.

And Tim can't help but add," Time to take you home."

> [Wayne Manor, Gotham]

Halfway through the week and Stephanie makes herself at home, integrated into the fold contently. Alfred fusses over her like a doting grandparent and Dick excitedly asks her every baby question in existence... twice. The only one that hasn't taken kindly to the new addition (which hadn't surprised anybody really) was Damian. The brat huffed and puffed about it, grew especially prickly when Titus bonded to Stephanie in a protective way ; she combatted this easily by teasing Damian like they all did. Tim noticed that Jason made a particular effort to be around Steph, to get to know her, cracked jokes and was the first to volunteer in getting whatever it was that the pregnant girl was craving.

"She asked for peanut butter covered pickles," Jason laughed to him while preparing the requested food in the kitchen. Little bite-sized pickles were smeared with peanut butter and laid out on a plate, the pretty floral designed ones Alfred sternly told them all to be careful handling. "It's the most absurd thing I've ever had to make."

Stephanie was told about the family secret, with Bruce's full sanction, about the vigilantes in her midst. Spoiler had been shelved when she became pregnant, crimefighting took a back seat including her dream of working alongside Batman ; imagine her pleasant surprise at learning who wore the cowl. Because of this, Tim was able to talk to her about his universe displacement.

"Woah, that's the craziest thing I've ever heard. Like, Back To The Future crazy."

Tim laughed, continuing to paint her toenails a dark purple. "Steph, that's about going to the future. I'm not even within the same universe right now."

She rolls her eyes, waving a hand, still drying with nail polish, in the air dismissively. "Whatevs, you know what I meant. Weird shit. Is that magic chick any closer to helping you find your way home?"

"Zatanna has theories... and Raven is trying to trace the magic's origins. They're working as hard as they can to find answers."

"You miss home," Cass, who is busy painting Stephanie's other hand, speaks quietly.

It's the truth, even with his Bat-training Tim can't keep the longing off his face at the moment. He misses Conner like a lost limb, his boyfriend must be going half-mad trying to find a way to get him back, and least he forget the Bats of his world probably tearing apart the whole of Gotham and anywhere else they believe he may have gone. The one question that still lingers, however, is whether this universe's Tim Drake has been sent to his own universe ; logically he knows it's probable yet he wonders all the same.

The two girls exchange a glance at his silence, one worried and the other knowing. "It'll be fine," Steph assures with an air of confidence," any day now I'll be crying about you leaving me."

"Technically I won't be. I'll be switching back with another me."

"I'll still miss you," Steph sing-songs and Tim smiles at her. She turns to Cass eagerly, eyes becoming hooded in a way he is formerly familiar with, that flirtatious half-mast. "Cass, honey, why don't we do yours next! What color do you want?"

"Black."

A happy laugh makes the blonde's eyelashes flutter," Black it is then. What color do you want, Tim?"

Tim rolls his eyes, he knew this was going to happen. With a sigh he relents," Red."

"Ohh, a dangerous color! Modeling yourself for your man?"

His face grows hot, a memory of Spoiler and Wonder Girl teasing him about the color scheme of his new persona, Superboy's heartfelt awe at his explanation, the symbolic color scheme to honor his bestfriend and lover.

"Jason is a lucky guy."

Tim blanches, is about to tell her that's not a funny joke until he catches a glimpse of Cass's expression. "Oh, uh, Steph he isn't - Jason and I aren't dating."

"What? He told me you were."

"Wrong me," he shrugs. "That's this universe's Tim Drake."

"Oh," Steph blinks and purses her lips in thought," then who are you smoozing in your world?"

He waits a beat, preparing himself for her high energy reaction. "Superboy."

As expected her reaction is more of a loud outburst. "Hot damn! You really have a thing for the handsome ones, huh?" She softly nudges Cass with an elbow to share a conspiratorial smile. "So? What's he like, this Superboy?"

"A little arrogant, hard-headed, a pain in the ass." Tim doesn't realize he's smiling softly, a faraway but fond look upon his face.. "Also kind and gentle. Loyal to a fault, isn't afraid to fight for others. Typical clone boy."

"Sounds like a good guy."

"He is," he agrees as he looks up at the two girls watching him with matching curious gazes. His thoughts land on the increasing flirtation he's seen between the two, Steph the initiator and Cass the tentative partner in this blooming dance, the same he'd witnessed between the Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain of his world. He smiles to himself, perhaps his presence here was meant to be, purposeful in some unforeseen path.

"Knock, knock."

Helena Bertinelli stands in the doorway to what has now become Steph's bedroom. She's smiling, which is a good sign, giving a small wave before entering. "A little bird told me this is where all the fun is being had."

"You heard right!" Steph chirps," Come join us. What color do you want your nails painted?"

"Hm, purple. Like yours."

"We can match!"

Throughout the time they spend together, Tim catches Helena watching him closely several times. He isn't sure what to make of it, tries to bury himself in the time he has left on this universe instead. As he'd admitted earlier, eventually he would be leaving back to where he belonged and, honestly, he'd be missing them too.

Jason finds him in the library later. Tim is sitting in his favorite armchair by the window, a large book in his hands, the spine worn from being cracked open more than once. The newcomer is carrying two mugs and offers Tim one after perching onto the windowsill.

"Al's special hot chocolate. Does a body good on winter nights." Tim smiles in gratitude, carefully placing the book onto a side table and wrapping his hands around the steaming mug to absorb its warmth. "So the rumors are true. Ya did paint your nails."

Tim flushes a bit, his grip around the cup becoming defensive. "Steph made me."

Jason's eyes are twinkling. "From what I heard ya didn't put up much of a fight."

"She's a bully. You would've said no?"

"You kiddin'? I woulda had a ball. Sorry I was too late to join the party. Been a little busy so I sent Helena in my place."

"So you're the little bird she mentioned."

Jason grins around the rim of his mug. "Guilty as charged."

Tim eyes him for a moment, trying to read the other's body language. "You have something to tell me?"

Jason, surprisingly, laughs. Fond exasperation crosses his features, a look Tim has been receiving since the moment he woke up in this world not his own. "Always the perceptive one."

Holding up the cup pointedly," Why else would you come bearing a peace offering?"

"Because I love you."

That statement fucks Tim up a little inside because this isn't his Jason and there's someone else he wants those words from. And how long has it been since the last time he heard Conner tell him those three monumental words? His heart clenches, isn't sure what to say to that.

"Sorry," Jason amends," force o' habit. I know ya ain't my Tim."

"So you believe me now?" He can't quite bite down on the bitter sarcasm that rises to the surface.

The other appears genuinely apologetic but also put upon. "How else was I supposed ta act when the love o' my life told me he was in love wit' someone else?"

"But I'm not your Tim."

"I know that!" Jason clicks his mouth shut after the outburst. "Sorry. I dun' mean ta snap I just... I didn't know that at the time and I, fuck, really miss him, ya know?"

Tim does know, Conner's bright grin flashes behind his eyelids. "I know," quietly admitted," you're all trying. So what is the update?"

Jason sighs, runs a hand through his hair. "Good news is Raven found sources to the magic."

"And the bad news?"

Tim is more than ready to bite that bullet, had been anticipating it the moment Jason walked in offering a mug of hot liquid. By the look on the other's face, the older man   
is frustrated with the results.

"We still have no idea how to send ya back."

Tim hums thoughtfully, actually relieved. It does not mean it is _impossible_ , just taking longer to decipher the mystery. Bruce was adamant about him sitting this out, to let the Bats and requested help fish out answers. He had given them all the knowledge he thought could help before begrudgingly finding purpose somewhere else : hence his nail polish adventure entertaining Steph.

He takes a closer look at Jason as he sips on the hot chocolate, savoring the taste with each slow swallow as he steeples his twitchy fingers against the mug. He realizes that the other has been dying their hair black, can just make out the red starting to peek through, Jason's true color coming forth. He reasons that the commotion of his arrival, the stress of the swap, and the struggle to remedy the situation has made Jason neglect personal activities. Did the other Tim Drake know? Did his alternate self tease Jason when ginger roots began showing?

"Well, guess I'm hanging out for awhile. Good time to learn more about me, myself or my other self." At the raised brow that earns him, Tim licks his lips self-consciously. "Tell me about him. Tell me about your Tim Drake."

Jason appears stumped, a little lost. He breathes in a sharp breath and lets it go nearly as quickly. Tim watches him fidget with the cup, moving to find a more comfortable position on the windowsill before speaking. "What do ya wanna know?"

Tim has a moment where he wants to point out how Jason's Gotham accent gets thicker when emotions are running high. Instead he shrugs as casually as he can manage," Anything, everything?"

A clearing throat and crack of the neck bleeds away some tension. "Well, ya heard how we met."

"In college," Tim nods as he answers. "How did you both end up living in Japan?"

"Heh, his idea. After college I didn't wanna go back to the Manor and his mother really didn't like me..."

"Oh?" Tim blinks in shock, a sharp pang in his chest. He understands that his parents wouldn't have approved of someone like Jason, especially not his mother ; not as a friend and least of all as a romantic interest. "You met my parents?"

"Course I did. He tried to avoid it but I insisted we at least try an' talk to 'em. I know it was hard to disappoint them for ya - for him. Movin' to another country was both for the peace an' change o' scenery."

Tim can see Jason is getting a little misty-eyed. It must have been a hard decision for them both, to leave their families, their birthplace behind. "But you come back to visit?"

"Yeah," the other's voice is croaky, Tim chooses to not comment on it. "Tha Manor only, mostly for holidays. He refuses to go see his parents anymore. Doesn't even return the letters they send. Doesn't return the phone calls or listen to the voicemails."

"Wait what?" Gears halt then resume, turning faster at the implication. "My parents are alive?"

"Well yeah." Jason's eyes go wide as saucers, realization setting in. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit."

"Drake Manor," and now it's Tim's voice that is hoarse, shaky. "It still stands? They are still..." Tim takes a moment to stare at the other's face, notices Jason's eyes are cobalt blue, no hint of pit madness green lingering around the irises. "I have to go see them."

"Woah, woah," Jason scrambles to his feet, hands up," wait a minute. Ya can't just go there."

"Why not? They're my parents! And they - they were dead. But if they're alive here then -"

"Just hold on," Jason pleads. His face is apologetic but also, primarily, worried. "I dunno how that's gonna fly. I mean, shit, I'm sorry. I know ya wanna see them but Tim, my Tim, dun' have the best relationship wit' them right now and I dun' know how that's gonna go if ya just show up out o' the blue. Not to mention he may kill me later if I let ya..."

"I'm not going anywhere soon. They don't have to know I'm not their Tim."

"So I'm chopped liver, huh? Gonna send me straight to the doghouse."

Tim has the decency to smile sympathetically. "Will it help if I leave a letter for your Tim to not blame you?"

Jason huffs, crossing his arms. "If ya think it'll help."

Tim shrugs. "It might."

"Great," the older boy throws up his hands in the air, exasperated. "I can't stop ya, can I?"

"No. No you cannot."

> [Drake Manor, Gotham]

There is nothing in this world or any other that could prepare Tim Drake to face his parents ( _well, not necessarily **my** parents -_ ) especially since they've been dead for almost five years. The very thought leaves him weak-kneed, however, he somehow finds the strength to travel to the neighboring estate near Wayne Manor : his childhood home, the one where this world's Tim's parents currently resided. It feels odd to knock on his own door (of his home, his castle) waiting for silent minutes that feel more like hours.

He is greeted by a servant he's never seen before, an older woman in her forties with greying hair and a smile that shows off her crow's feet. Her surprised gasp snaps his attention away from her features and towards her words. "Young Master Tim!" Her voice is a tad bit shrill. "You've returned!"

He takes a moment to clear his throat and compose himself : his heart is beating hard and fast enough to cause slight dizziness. "Hello. Yes, I would like to speak to my mother and father if they are available."

"Of course, of course!" She ushers him in, fussing with taking off his coat. "Out of the cold with you! Catch your death out there. I'll warm up your favorite tea but first I'll accompany you to the library."

That earns a raised brow from the young man. "The library?"

"Now don't be daft," she playfully scolds him and shoos him up the staircase with an air of familiarity. "It's your favorite spot in the house, I certainly haven't forgot. Spent more time in there than your own bedroom. I'll set you up there nice and cozy and phone the Misses and Mister of your arrival."

In the blink of an eye, Tim's standing in the large library of the estate, the same as it ever looked. Shelves of books line every inch of the walls, a sliding ladder for the higher sections set neatly at the right end waiting to be used. His favorite armchair, a red and gold patterned treasure stationed by the biggest window in the room. Writing paper and ink appear untouched at the work desk close and to the left of the armchair.

Tim takes a refreshing breath and thinks, _This is home_.

He turns to the woman and recalls the pieces of information Jason had thrown his way before venturing here (he wouldn't let the other come along which had been a testy argument hard won) and remembers the name of a nanny who'd all but raised the other Tim Drake. "Thank you, Amelia."

"Oh, my boy. How I have missed you." She pinches his cheek fondly then heads for the door again. "I'll be back shortly. Make yourself comfortable and don't go disappearing! I expect a full account of what you've been up to these passed years away when you have a moment for this old girl!"

Tim smiles to himself, wanders the room in awe and fondness. He's forgone visiting an empty house when his father had passed not long after his mother. Dana, his stepmother, had felt the place too cold without the man she had married and that left him, the heir, with just old memories to keep him company. Most of his time was spent at The Perch in Titans Tower or being whisked away by Conner to the Kent family farm. Other than that he avoided even Wayne Manor for... other complicated and related reasons : like the role of Robin having been ripped from him, the aftermath of the Battle For the Cowl, his continued strained relationship with Damian and Dick, to name a few. So many familiar corners of his life now tainted with an unresolved past.

A finger delicately strokes the spine of _Hamlet_ , a classic Shakespeare tale, and jumps to a very minimally worn paperback of Jane Austin's _Pride And Prejudice_ his mother, from his world, had bought him for his twelfth birthday. Memories flit passed his eyelids as he touches each in gentle caresses, taking special care not to disturb too much of the scene. The room has been well-taken care of, obviously dusted and possibly used ; he imagines his father sitting in the armchair wearing his Harry Potter reading glasses while looking over recent scientific archaeological reports. The image sends warmth through his chest, he can feel it chase the remnants of anxiety away.

The library door slams open loudly, sends him into a defensive stance, prepared for any sudden attackers. Instead he sees his father, Jack Drake, as if summoned by thought alone. The man's eyes are wide, a swirl of emotions flicking back and forth too fast to name, and breathing heavily as if Jack had been running a marathon. "Tim."

He straightens, cautious. "Hey, Dad. I know this is sudden -"

"Tim." Jack speaks his name reverently and stumbles closer, allowing him to see the teary shine to his father's eyes. Standing still from shock due to the emotional response, he belatedly returns the embrace he's pulled into. The arms around him are tight, the solid body he's pressed against immovable. "You came back."

And, **_oh_** , Tim is woefully unprepared for the pain and relief laced in those words. He is equally unprepared when he spots his mother over Jack's shoulder, her often stoic face now cracked with obvious distress. His mother, Janet, had always been the more emotionally reserved of the two, the responsible and reasonable parent and kept him and Jack in line when they strayed. He sees the toll Tim Drake's absence has caused, can feel the palpable desperation permeating thick in the air.

Tim does something he hasn't in some time : he cries.

It's not pretty, but blubbery and snotty and loud. Jack cradles him, let's him wet the front of a green sweater vest with tears. Janet comes up against their left side, one hand on Jack's back in support and another petting Tim's dark hair, kissing the arch of his brow and temple. His heart swells with love, words stuck in his throat and distantly regrets that he can't speak the truth : how he misses them, how he wishes he could stay, how he wants to never leave. This isn't his to have when this is over and that realization is too painful.

He makes up his mind to save their relationship with their son, to repair the damage done. The other Tim Drake will thank him later, he'll make sure of it.

\---

He's still sniffling when he recounts his experience to Stephanie after dinner with his parents. Purple painted fingertips delicately wipe at his eyes and smooth over his cheeks. Her smile is kind and proud, manages to wrestle him into a one-armed hug ; even pregnant her strength is formidable.

"You did a great thing," she assures.

"I know. I just... selfishly wish I could take them home with me."

"Naw, I'd feel the same way if I were you. I'm sorry you can't but I promise to make the other Tim not run away or take this opportunity for granted."

He smiles, grateful. "He's going to be lucky to have you."

"Absolutely. He should be kissing your boots for that too!"

He laughs, thankful for her familiar humor and their easy banter. "Yes, I've plagued him with your strange cravings and demand for thumb wars. He should seriously be licking the soles of my shoes."

"I'll make his life more interesting."

"More interesting than being a vigilante?"

Steph's look turns into confusion. "Jason said his Tim wasn't in on the Bat business."

He shrugs. "Not hands on. But he might want to after he learns about me. If there's one thing I know about myself, it's my need to help people. If he can do more than just pass along information, he'll at the very least be tempted. I'm not taking the Grackle identity and uniform back with me. I already have Red Robin."

"Jason's persona?" At his nod, Steph's eyes sparkle. "Small world."

"We were both Robin where I'm from too."

"No way! You were Robin?" Steph wiggles her eyebrows, smile wide. "Pixie boots and scaly undies, huh?"

Tim snorts. "My uniform was a modified version. I upgraded to pants."

"Boo," she bemoans," not as funny."

"You were Robin too," he confesses.

Bright blue eyes lock onto his face, shock and delight in equal parts reflected in them. "I was Robin?"

Tim smiles at the awe in her tone. "Yeah. You were really cool."

"I was Robin," she repeats and the smile that stretches across wobbly lips was pure happiness. Her tears, even out of happiness, were still alarming. "Whoops. Hormones."

"It's okay," he soothed and rubbed little circles into her arm like he knew she liked.

"It's so embarrassing."

"I cried out of joy the first night I went out as Robin. I was so excited. Robin is made out of kid's dreams. I had looked up to Dick and Jason when they wore Robin as a child. Did I ever tell you I used to follow them around photographing them as a kid?"

"No," she laughed, a watery sound. "Didn't realize you used to work as paparazzi."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Most people call me a stalker."

"That too." She laughs again at his mock glare. Stephanie yawns, tears subsided.

"I think it's time to call it a night." He gently helps her to lie down, fluffing her pillows and settles the covers around her. He knows Alfred will check up on her soon before the elder man retires to bed. "Goodnight Steph."

She yawns again as he turns out the light and starts to close the door. "Goodnight Tim."

\---

Quiet chatter fills the Batcave, Barbara speaks to Bruce who is intensely studying Raven's findings. The graphs, images and detailed paragraphs report unusual phenomenon happening in certain hot spots along the globe. Traces of magic of unknown origin are found there, something neither Raven nor Zatanna can name. Bruce gives an angry grunt, typing something into the main computer then pulls up another file.

Tim empathizes with the frustration as dead ends aren't his favorite thing either. He watches Dick swing on the bars set up by the training mats, mind contemplating the meaning behind his dimensional travel. For magic to force him through a dimensional rift is strange in and of itself. _Why?_ He can't wrap his head around it. _Who would want to do this and why? To me? To multiple versions of me?_

Based on the number of magical hotspots, at least ten other multiverse Tim Drake's have been misplaced. It's a huge mix and switch but the elusive purpose is what bothers him the most. He can't make a clear decision of whether the action is meant to be heinous or something else entirely. All he wants are answers and to go back home.

Jason sidles up next to him, also watching Dick show off his acrobatic skills. "I just got off the phone with our landlord. She's sad we won't be able to join her for tea any time soon."

Tim doesn't have the energy to correct the  our and we in that sentence. "Hopefully things will get sorted out before long."

"Ready to run out on us already, Little Wing?" Dick teases as he hangs upside down, beaming smile aimed their way.

"Shuddup," Jason snarks back," ya know it ain't nothin'. Just getting tired of you eating all my favorite cereal."

"I didn't see your name on it."

"Hell," Jason laughs as Dick sticks a tongue out at him," you really are a perpetual three year old, Goldie."

"You're actually surprised?" Tim drawls and quietly chuckles when he earns himself a stuck out tongue too.

"Where's the brat?" Jason asks instead of answering.

"I'm lookin' at him."

"Ha, Ha. Very funny, _Dick_."

"I can't tell if you're saying my name or insulting me."

Jason shoots the older boy a devious grin. "Take a wild guess."

The acrobat lands on his feet and starts a couple of short arm stretches. "He and Batgirl are off for tonight. Just me, B, you and Babs in our ear." He glances at Tim, sends a friendly wink. "And Tim if he's allowed up passed his bedtime."

"You're right, Jason. _Dick_ is very funny."

Nightwing pouts. "You two are such bullies. I already miss Damian."

"That's because you two are attached at the hip. Swear you shoulda been born as conjoined twins."

"Yikes. Now that would make life very awkward. How would we go to the bathroom?"

"Beats me," Jason shrugs nonchalantly," I ain't plannin' on being glued to your ass."

"I'll have you know my butt looks great in spandex. You're all jealous."

"Jesus Dick," Jason mumbles incredulously while Tim bursts into laughter. "Go ask B when we'll be heading out."

Nightwing pauses, raising a brow silently. Jason just tilts his head in the direction of Bruce and says nothing as the older man complies. Tim distinctly knows something is up by the strange action and determined line of Red Robin's brow, or otherwise dubbed 'gameface'. Instead of initiating the conversation, Tim waits him out.

"It went well, I hear."

Right. "Yes, I... I think things will be better now. For you and your Tim."

Jason looks grateful. "Thank you. Just... thank you. For that. And Steph. And anythin' else ya might do."

That is very refreshing to hear coming out of Jason Todd's mouth, even if it's not his universe's Jason Todd. "It's my pleasure, really. I'm just glad I could help."

Tim watches the other shift his feet, working the courage to say - something. "Can I ask ya a question? I meant to earlier before ya left."

A slow blink. "Sure. Go ahead."

"How did," a swallow breaks between the words," I die?"

Tim grows cold, dreading having to give any details. He risks a look over his shoulder towards the Batcomputer, sees everyone preoccupied talking and looking over the files. He stalls by biting his lip and thinking over his next few words carefully. "Bruce didn't make it in time," he reveals. "The Joker beat you bloody with a crowbar then locked you into the building where he left a bomb. It blew up and - the aftermath wasn't pretty."

Jason nods, absorbs the information, face somber. "How did Bruce take it?"

And that - that is just as hard to divulge. "He was devastated. Practically tried to kill himself by being careless in the field. Dick... couldn't come back as Robin and that's what he needed. So when I couldn't convince Dick to come back..."

"You became Robin," Jason finishes for him.

Tim can't help but ask : "Are you angry?"

Jason looks at him, confused and startled. "What? Why would I be mad? You were right, B needed a Robin. Someone had to do it."

"The other Jason - my Jason was. Came back from the dead and wasn't too happy about being replaced."

"Came back from the dead?"

"Lazarus Pit." Tim feels immediately terrible for not omitting that piece of information. Jason pales, looking a little sick at the prospect. "He went through a lot."

"He literally crawled back to life from the pits o' hell. That's some serious shit."

Tim nods, sighs heavily. "Bruce never forgave himself."

"Whether he killed the clown or let me die, he would've never forgiven himself. Even if he had managed to save me without killing that bastard he would have likely blamed himself anyway for letting me get captured and beaten to begin with." There's resignation in each word, an accepted truth about their shared mentor's mentality ; Tim concedes that Jason is right.

"Red." Tim turns along with his companion and belatedly realizes the nickname isn't meant for him, at least not in this world. "Time to move out."

Red Robin leans in for a kiss goodbye, pulling back at the last second and flips his cowl on to hide his sheepish, embarrassed expression. "Sorry. Habit."

"It's okay." Tim offers a soft, understanding smile. "I'll be in your ear with Oracle for the night. It'll be like I'm right there with you."

Tim watches Batman, Nightwing and Red Robin exit, helps keep them vigilant and updated on Gotham street surveillance. He keeps up with the banter, has plenty of fun passing information and wit around alongside Oracle. He does, however, have trouble not staring in quick intervals at Barbara. By the time an hour and a half passes she flicks comms off on their end for some privacy before pinning him down using a questioning gaze.

"What is it? You've been staring at me nearly the moment we started."

He doesn't want to say it. The fact that he had to tell Jason how he died from his universe is stressful enough for one night. To reveal that the Joker had not only killed the second Robin but also crippled the first Batgirl is like beating a dead horse. Still some part of him feels obligated to tell the truth ; he already told Cass, he feels awful keeping the truth from Babs. "The Joker shot you in my world."

Barbara freezes, gaze assessing and calculating. "He killed me too?"

_So she knows about Jason_. Tim fathoms one of the other Bats told her the things he'd said the night he'd arrived at the Manor when they all thought he was having a mental breakdown ; his wager is on Dick. "No. You ended up in a wheelchair."

She purses her lips, tilts her head just right to let some red hair obscure an eye. "I never got to be Batgirl?"

"You did," he informs," and became Oracle when you couldn't. Even if you couldn't hit the streets, you decided maintaining networks would do as much good."

"The other me sounds smart."

"I imagine every version of you is."

Babs laughs heartily. "And I suppose every Tim Drake is a charmer?"

"Oh no," Tim shakes his head. "We're all dorky and awkward, I promise. Scout's honor."

"... zzt - Oracle?"

She puts on a serious face and flips their communications back on. "I'm here, Nightwing."

"There's a disturbance up ahead. A crowd is forming and they are holding what looks like clubs and... guns? Can you get a visual?"

"On it," there is frantic typing as Oracle zeroes in on Nightwing's location. "I see them. Red Robin you are the closest to give assistance. Sending you coordinates now."

"Breakin' up a wannabe mob? What do I look like : the cleaning crew?"

"Get on location," Batman's growly command sounds even more intimidating through the static of the comms link. No one wants to argue after that.

When Red Robin gets on scene, the two vigilantes start the bust. It's clearly a mob of some kind, angry and full of anxious bodies ready to destroy and damage. They've made it just in time to curb what would've been a dangerous scene. Fighting instantly breaks out when they jump into the fray, Nightwing taking four and Red Robin three while everyone else scatters and flees. Tim watches Oracle switch cameras erratically, trying to snap pictures of as many faces escaping into the night for criminal background checks as she can. His eyes are pinpointed on the scuffle, narrowing when he sees something glint menacingly in the hands of a hostile.

"Red!" Tim isn't fast enough to warn anyone before a gunshot rings out.

It spooks the remaining fighters into running, Jason's outcry of pain muffled by the commotion that follows. Nightwing is quick to unarm his assailant and subdue, ziptying the wrists and ankles. Everything happens so rapidly as Oracle attempts to find a camera angle that'll more clearly show their injured friend.

"Red? Red, can you hear me?" Nightwing's voice trembles with worry, hands flutter and check around a spot on Red Robin's side that is quickly coloring red. "He's bleeding."

"Get him back to the cave," Batman snarls in their ears, too far away to do anything but bark orders.

"I'm calling the GCPD for a pick up. Get him back in one piece, N." Oracle's calm voice directs, already sending in a call. "Grackle I need you to inform Alfred we need medical assistance." Tim nods jerkily, feet heavy as he does as he's told.

When Nightwing comes in half-dragging (because Jason grew up to be taller and bulkier than his big brother the jerk) Red Robin off a bike and into the medical bay, Tim is shadowing Alfred. Dick unmasks himself and gives Tim a guilty glance. "Sorry. I wasn't quick enough."

"Neither was I," he solemnly agrees.

The roar of the Batmobile steals all their gazes. Batman shoots out like a bullet, rushing over while removing the cowl. Panic is barely concealed as he takes off a gauntlet to smooth a thumb over one of Jason's scrunched eyebrows. "What's his condition?"

"I am about to remove the bullet," Alfred informs as he maneuvers the required equipment, efficient even with the added disability of a stooped back and withering age. His tone suggests little concern, that the task shall be easy. "Then I will staunch the bleeding and bandage the wound. I estimate it will take a week or two for Master Jason to recover from such an injury."

"I'm gonna live, Alf?" Jason meekly asks.

"Certainly so, Master Jason."

"Jason," Bruce calls his name softly, relief evident.

"B," he echoes back," I left my bike. Shit, dun' let anyone steal my bike. I jus' got it repainted."

Tim rolls his eyes and sighs, smiling. "I'm sure Dick will go back to get your bike."

Jason turns his head enough to peer at Tim from around Alfred. "Hey, ya love that bike. Took ya on yer first ride on that bi-bike..." His words become more slurred as he talks, the medicine Alfred administered settling in. The thought is startling considering the Jason Todd of his world can't be affected by strong drugs since the resurrection due to the pit influence. "Hold ma hand baby?"

Tim almost refuses. A merciful part of him gives in, however, and doesn't hesitate in slipping his fingers beneath Jason's to rest against a warm palm. "Sure."

Jason's eyes stay on his face, silent as his gaze flickers all over Tim's features. His mouth curves up, a mimicry of a smirk except more lopsided. "Yer so pretty, babe. Yer eyes... yer eyes are like starz..."

Dick laughs, sidles closer to sit on one of the unoccupied beds in the med bay. "How high are you right now?"

"Higher than a kite, I imagine," Tim answers for him.

"Yer mouth is so pretty too. Gimme a kiss?"

Tim blushes, looks away. Dick laughs harder, arms around his stomach. "Smooth, Little Wing. Real smooth."

"Shudda... Shuddup. I'ma romantic."

Bruce catches Tim's eye and there's a knowing, sympathetic smile there for him. "Is he always like this doped up?"

"More or less," Bruce shrugs. "He'll fall asleep in another ten minutes."

"I have to survive ten minutes of this?" He stage-whispers but he's smiling back all the same.

"Enjoy the show," Bruce stage-whispers back.

\---

The next day Tim spent most of his morning back and forth from the cave checking on Jason (who asks for him constantly and who knew the guy could be so needy) and hanging out with Stephanie. Damian had also, surprisingly, been lingering in their company from afternoon to evening, mainly silent aside from some haughty commentary on their preferences of movies. When he came back from visiting Jason before dinner, the brat was gone.

"Where'd the demon run off to?"

"Grabbing me some more tea, the sweetheart. I think he's starting to grow on me."

"I think he just has a thing for blondes."

Stephanie sticks out her tongue playfully. "You're just jealous because I'm hot."

He chuckles," You've got me there."

"So how's Alfred's favorite patient?"

He groans, flops down on the couch in a heap. "Needy. Alfred says he's got about a week, maybe two, before he'll be back on the streets. In maybe a couple days he   
should be up from the cave."

"A little birdie told me he was quite the flirter last night."

Tim deadpans. "Dick?"

She laughs," Bruce actually."

He rolls his eyes. "Traitor."

Steph laughs again, one hand idly rubbing the ever-growing baby bump. They chattered for awhile, Damian slinking back into the room with the girl's tea. The youngest sat silently in the opposite armchair across from Stephanie, his eyes, green gemstones, flick between them as they converse with the barest interest.

"So what's the next step?" The conversation has rounded back to his predicament.

As always, which is starting to seriously irritate him, he has no real answer. "Bruce is working hard on trying to understand the source of the magic. I've been analyzing his notes and the data but the hotspots - the places the magic is gathering - don't have an identifiable pattern. At least not one we can see at this point."

Steph shrugs, gaze turning sympathetic. "You'll get there. So no pattern right?"

"None. There's no reason it should jump from Japan to Metropolis, to Gotham, to -" Tim stops, eyes widening in an almost comical way. "Wait. Maybe there is."

"Yeah?"

"Smallville. One of the hotspots is in Smallville."

"Um, Tim? I'm not following."

"Superboy," Damian speaks up, glinting green orbs locked on Tim's indigo eyes with thoughtful intensity. "He resides there. Your," his upper lip curls in obvious distaste," lover back where you came from as well?"

"Yes! It makes sense. Your Tim fell asleep in Japan in his home with Jason. I fell asleep in Smallville with Conner before I woke up in your dimension."

"And that means what," Stephanie prompted.

"Which means," he continued with twinkling eyes now sat bolt upright on the couch," that they are linked! Each one where one Tim was sleeping with their, um, you know."

"So, what, some otherworldly force played scramble with a bunch of different you's? Why? To mess with you? That seems so weird."

"I'm not sure why," he admits.

"I need to talk to my Father. This information could prove valid."

"Right - Bruce. He should be...!" Tim scrambles to his feet, nearly trips over nothing in his hurry. He hears Steph snickering at his back as he moves, trusting Damian to follow him without needing to be asked.

They find Bruce in his study, shifting between documents and papers that assumably detail important notes for Wayne Enterprises the man had to oversee. He didn't startle when Tim burst into the room, breathing heavily, but simply raised a brow, shooting a look over Tim's shoulder at Damian. "Can I help you, boys?"

Tim ignored the humorous tone. "Bruce! I found the pattern!"

"Do not shout, Drake. And it was more than just you," Damian clarifies. "During our conversation we discovered a possible thread. Each location has meaning."

Tim takes over to recount. The possibility that each location of each Tim revealed the pattern : each origination could mean a portal and the link being where each Tim fell asleep before the swap.

"I remember having a particular dream the night before I arrived here. We could try to recreate the circumstances. Maybe that's the connection we've been searching for ; the missing piece."

"Perhaps," Damian sneers. "What are you thinking Father?"

Bruce is leaning forward in his chair, chin resting on his folded hands, propped up on his elbows. His expression holds battling emotions, of fascination and skepticism. "There is only one way to test a theory."

"I can contact the Teen Titans. If I ask Grayson he will only become distracted."

Tim's heart lurches at the idea. "The Teen Titans?"

"Yes," Damian says rather snidely," as we will need the services of Superboy should we truly replicate your theoretical circumstances."

"That... sounded too smart for you to be saying." Damian scowls, hurtling out of the room in a huff. Tim chews his lip for a moment, eyes seeking Bruce's. "Smallville," he blurts self-consciously," is where we need to be."

He's given a patient look. "And Jason?"

Shame burns the tip of his ears. "I... have to tell him don't I?" A nod. "He's going to want to be there." Another nod. "And he's not going to be happy about this."

Bruce sighs. "Whether you're our Tim or not, it's going to hurt him to see you be with someone else."

"Not to mention awkward considering the Superboy of your universe hasn't even met your Tim before."

"If your theory is correct it will be worth testing."

"Says the guy who doesn't have to weirdly fall asleep in the arms of a kinda-sorta-not-really stranger."

> [Titans Tower, New York City]

"So let me get this straight. This guy is from another universe, back in Smallville there is a portal to get him home and you need me to, what, sleep next to him to send him back?"

"Essentially," Batman gruffly responds.

Tim stands nervously as Grackle projecting outward calm, sandwiched between the intimidating presence that is Batman and Red Robin stationed in a wheelchair. It's been approximately three days since the initial plan, of Jason's grumbling and adamant argument to be present for this meeting. It's obvious to everyone in the room that Red Robin is less than thrilled, channeling an inner Batman that makes the original mentor proud if Bruce's smirk is to be decipherable.

Conner, or also known as Superboy, stands straight infront of the Bats with arms crossed and eyebrow raised. Wonder Girl, Impulse and Bunker flank him, each equal parts curious and confused. Nightwing is further in the tower conversing with Beast Boy and Raven. The place looks identical from how Tim remembers, down to the carpet and curtains, even the minifridge Impulse and Beast Boy had insisted on having. Superboy doesn't look convinced or amused but clearly incredulous and Tim can't blame him.

His fingers itch for the need to grab onto one of those sun-kissed hands, wants unearthly blue eyes to look at him with the confidence and fondness he is accustomed to. All he gets is Conner's wariness, the way he is seized up like a stranger, almost like an enemy, cuts a little too deep. Red Robin's scowl turns more into a snarl at the studying gaze on Grackle, hands gripping the wheels of his chair harder than necessary.

The transporter dings and out steps some more familiar faces : Kid Flash, Arsenal and Starfire.

"Hey!" An orange and yellow blur zips across the room immediately to Nightwing's side. An arm slung over the Bat's shoulders as Wally West leans into his friend. "No one told me you were visiting. Where was my heads up?"

"Sorry," Nightwing laughs," it was last minute. I'm here for a favor."

"From who?"

"Me, apparently," Superboy speaks up.

"Red! The hell happened to you?" Arsenal grins as he nears but does a double take at the sight of the newcomer dressed in all black. "Who the fuck is that?"

"Watch it," Red Robin grunts. "It ain't someone ya don't know."

Roy's eyes grow wide, a shit-eating grin overcoming his lips. He walks closer and leans in conspiratorially as Kori floats and follows. "Is that who I think it is in there? Thought Red said no vigilante business?"

"Long story," Grackle's synthesizers jumble his voice as he shrugs.

"No kiddin'. And what happened to our boy blunder over here?"

"Got shot," Jason huffs. His scowl turns into a soft smile when Kori gets close enough to initiate a hug. Tim realizes in that moment that the Outlaws were never a group in this universe, wouldn't need to be because the second Robin never died, that Jason had actually joined the Teen Titans at some point. "Come see me later if ya want the details."

"Sure thing," Arsenal hums and starts another topic of conversation.

This distraction allows Batman to step forward and steer Superboy into a more private talk away from everyone else ; Wonder Girl is watchful even if she doesn't follow, never taking her eyes off the big bad Bat. Impulse and Bunker join Nightwing's group, Kid Flash pointedly ruffling the other speedster's unruly ginger locks. Tim doesn't remove himself from Jason's side, however, he does pay close attention to Superboy's expressions and Batman's body language from his viewpoint.

Convincing Superboy to help was always going to be tedious. How is one supposed to believe his circumstances if even the Batfamily weren't entirely on board until very recently? Tim knows how it sounds, he knows the explanation is strange to hear and the plan crosses personal boundaries. _It has to work. I don't know what else to do if it doesn't_.

Grackle turns his attention towards what would be the anti-hero band called The Outlaws where he's from. Jason looks more relaxed in the presence of Roy and Kori, something that isn't different from the Jason he knows. The easy, familiar way in which the three interact is identical to what he knows but being caught in the middle is, to be honest, an odd feeling.

"Woah, from another dimension? That's actually kickass cool." Jason has caught his friends up tp speed in a few short minutes. Tim shrugs and smiles, although no one can tell because of the helmet he wears. "So is greenie still an ass in your world? I'm asking for a friend."

"Green Arrow? Yeah."

Arsenal snaps his fingers triumphantly. "I knew it."

Jason snorts. "You're obsessed."

"Shut up. I am not."

"We're done here," Batman announces curtly.

The swish of his cape obscures Tim's view of Superboy for a moment. The Batplane awaits their departure, Nightwing and Red Robin say their goodbyes. Arsenal is vowing to visit soon when Tim looks back in Conner's direction finally. Cassie is stood next to the boy now, their hands intertwined but Conner's uncertain gaze stays locked on Grackle's retreating form.

> [Wayne Manor, Gotham]

"So you have to fall asleep in the arms of dreamy, drool worthy, hunk Superboy?"

"You make it sound really creepy. It's not like it isn't awkward enough."

"You're so screwed aren't you?"

Tim groans, buries his face in Stephanie's shoulder. "You're a menace. Just an awful, awful human being."

"So I've been told," she says before eating another spoonful of chocolate ice cream. "Anyway, do you think it'll work? The magic portal thingie?"

Tim sits back up beside her. "No ones knows. The only way to find out is to try it."

"And make out with Superboy. Hot diggity."

"I'm not making out with him!"

"Boo, you whore."

"Says the Virgin Mary."

"Savage."

\---

Tim sits on Jason's bed, the other asleep beside him. He's prepared for what will, hopefully, be his last day here. If the theory is to be believed, falling asleep in Smallville in the arms of the same equivalent partner (i.e. Conner Kent) on his world will open whatever portal sent him here in the first place. All he has to do is wait, in the morning he'll be on a plane to the Kent farm. For now he's closing loose ends, a pen in hand and paper in his lap, a desk lamp switched onto the softest light setting as to not wake the other occupant.

Black ink letters litter the once white canvas at his fingertips ; some are crossed out as dark lines form chicken scratch. He's thought over his words for the last four hours trying to pour all he can into this ; Jason had been helping and interjecting until he fell asleep. He's explained the situation of Stephanie coming into the fray, recounted the meeting with Jack and Janet Drake, mused over the differences between their respective lives and the vigilante name he is leaving behind, the costume waiting in the cave that is currently collecting dust.

Lastly, however, with a paragraph all to his own, Tim now writes about Jason.

> [Kent Farm, Smallville]

"Come in, come in," Ma Kent greets them at the door. "I've made pie, blueberry and strawberry, take your pick. Dinner will be ready before sunset, hope you like chicken."

Tim smiles as Bruce gives the woman a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Ma. This is my son Jason and his life partner Tim." The last part he had to raise a brow at but Bruce   
didn't give him any elaboration. "You might remember Jason - you did meet a couple of times."

"Good to meet you boys, happy to see Conner making new friends." She leans closer to Jason, still wheelchair bound, and fake-whispers," He's having trouble meeting nice boys. All he does is chase the skirts of poor girls!"

"You're hilarious, Ma." Conner cheekily replies as he loudly reaches the bottom of the stairs. He turns to Jason and Tim, hesitant, before holding out a hand. "I can, uh, take your bags for you if you want." That's the gentleman he knows and Tim accepts the offer before nudging Jason who begrudgingly follows in example ; Kon is strong enough for both of their bags.

As they enter Tim realizes the house looks recently dusted, pictures strategically placed about the living room, Smallville news muted on the old television. The warmth of an oven and smell of freshly baked pie causes him to smile, the feeling of familiarity easing away some of the anxious tension greedily clinging to his bones. This place is home, second-hand, but still home.

Tim takes his time reacquainting himself with the framed photos of the Kents. He's chuckling at one of Conner and Krypto playing in the field with a football when Ma Kent comes over laughing herself. "That there is our dog Krypto, should be at the barn. One of the sweetest pups I ever saw. And this one here," she points to the one next to it," that's my son Clark, Conner's father. He'll be home in time for dinner. He's a big shot reporter these days in Metropolis."

"Conner said he works for the Daily Planet?" Tim politely prompts, even if he already knows the answer.

"Yes! I take it you've heard of it."

"Who hasn't? Lois Lane's pieces are hard to put down."

"What a girl that one! Clark has his eye on her."

Tim doesn't even try to suppress the mirthful smile he sports at that. "Future daughter-in-law maybe?"

Ma lightly thumps his shoulder in reproach. "Don't set my hopes too high!" Her smile turns wistful as she picks up another picture frame. "This one here's my late husband, Jonathan."

"Handsome man," and wishes there was more he can say, more he could do to help her loss. "Must have been a good man to hook a beauty like you."

"Oh you," she laughs," he did. Charmed the boots off of me. He was a good man."

"Ma," Bruce calls from the kitchen where he and Jason are partaking in delicious homemade delights," would you mind if I used this cup?"

"Hold on, dear." The aged woman sets the photo back to its spot and pats Tim companionably on the shoulder before venturing away.

Now absent of current company, Tim goes outside and breathes in the fresh air, appreciates the cool country breeze as it sweeps across him. On autopilot his feet start to move, trek through the green grass on a path to the barn not far away. The front of the barn house is a bright red contrasting the white painted roof, large and spacious, the double doors cracked open the tiniest sliver but enough for Tim to slip inside. His eyes rove the scene and spot Krypto sniffing around a corner. Upon looking up, the dog barks and bounds over, manages to jump on Tim hard enough to send the young man sprawled into a pile of hay.

He laughs, an eye half-closed as his face is attacked by dog kisses. "Hi Krypto. Happy to see you too."

Someone else slips inside with them as he's talking. Conner Kent stands there, uncertain and curious and maybe even a little thunderstruck. "Hey."

"Hey," Tim echoes, feels his heartbeat picking up, knows Conner can hear it.

Conner takes a step closer, stops, takes another and asks," Care if I sit down?"

_Next to me?_ Tim smiles, pats the space next to him in what he hopes is an inviting gesture. "Sure. Plenty of hay for the both of us." His heart blooms when the other boy's lips quirk up just the slightest.

"So."

"So?"

"I have no idea what to say," Conner admits. "This is really weird."

"You're telling me," Tim mutters, pats Krypto's head with a sigh. "I'm the one that got dumped here."

Conner scratches his head," Right. Sucks."

"You suck at conversation."

The kryptonian lets out loud, surprised laughter. "Wow, I, wow. That was pretty good."

Tim shrugs and jokes," Gotham natural sass, Kon."

"Kon?" The other's tone is colored in bemusement and knocks Tim back down to reality quickly. "Is, uh, that what you call me?"

"It's your kryptonian name, Kon-El."

"I have a kryptonian name?"

"Well, yeah. Clark didn't give you one?"

"... no. We don't really talk. We play nice infront of Ma but he doesn't like me very much and... and I don't like him."

Tim hums, side-eyes the tense posture of the boy beside him. Conner sits with his knees up, arms wrapped around his legs, tucked into himself to appear smaller, less threatening. Tim isn't shocked by the disharmony between Supes and Supes 2.0 ; his Kon holds a strained relationship with both of his DNA donors too. Instinct makes him reach out and place a comforting hand on Conner's arm, a touch of reassurance he's done a million times for multiple reasons. Conner turns his head to look at him, **really** look at him, unearthly blue eyes soaking him in with appraising interest.

"Batman - or, uh, Bruce told me you..." The question is clear, the embarrassed trail off a dead give away. It's the elephant in the room, something unspoken yet known lying between them. All Conner wants is the information verified and, although he's nervous to say it, Tim won't deny him.

"Date you? In my world? Yes I - Kon is my boyfriend."

Conner lets out a low whistle. "That's... that's..."

"Weird?"

"Kinda. But that's okay! I mean, it's okay that you like guys and the other me likes guys. I am a good-looking dude."

Tim blinks, laughs and turns his head to look at Conner dead-on, grinning. "You are so vain."

Conner is grinning back. "So you're saying I'm not hot? Don't lie. You are dating me."

"Shut up," Tim has the grace to blush, the tips of his ears shaded red.

"You're not denying it."

"You're an ass."

A laugh. "You should know, huh."

Tim licks his lips, finds some inner courage to spare. "So."

Conner keeps grinning, eyes dancing with mirth. "So?"

He rolls his eyes. "Who are you seeing?"

"Well you're sitting right here so I'm going to say you."

Tim snorts, blush glowing a little brighter. "I mean dating."

Conner shrugs. "No one exactly."

"Which means you're interested in someone."

"Well done, Sherlock."

"Who is it," he presses. "Is it Wonder Girl?"

It's Conner's turn to flush, a sheepish smile dominates his lips. "It's not official."

Tim's heart sinks, a jealous spark bares its fangs and, yeah, he understands how Jason must feel. The bitter taste is worse than bile as he fails miserably at pretending to not care. Stoicism is something easier to do behind a mask : the Batcode motto.

"She's cool. She's even led the Teen Titans in my stead before, back where I'm from."

"You're a Teen Titan?!"

Tim totally doesn't preen under the impressed gaze. "Yes. Where I'm from I'm a part of Batman's team. I also lead the current team of Teen Titans."

"Cool. So do I." Conner looks like he's about to say something else but stops and, in unison with Krypto, tilts his head. "That's Ma calling us in for dinner."

Conner wards Krypto off and offers him a hand. Tim ignores the _pitter patter_ of his heart and the other is kind enough not to point it out.

Tim has just sat down at the dinner table when the tall, broad figure of Clark Kent makes an appearance. He watches the way Conner carefully edges around him, avoids contact. Ma and Bruce stand to greet the new arrival.

"Welcome home." The woman is dwarfed by the size of her son, engulfed in large yet gentle arms. "Just in time for dinner."

"I made you a promise, Ma. I intended to keep it." He reaches out a hand to shake Bruce's, cordial and friendly. "Sorry to keep you all waiting."

"Then sit down so we can eat," Jason snarks.

It's a quiet affair, passing around a bowl of mashed potatoes, a plate of chicken and other delicious foods. There is polite chatter, mostly Bruce being caught up to speed on happenings around the farm and Clark's current work ; superheroing on the down low. Time ticks by slowly, Tim is too aware of each second flickering by, what must come next looming over him. Conner, sat across from him, must feel it too, catching his gaze then darting his eyes away too quickly to not be self-conscious. Despite the small bonding they've acquired, it's still awkward knowing they'll both be sharing a bed with a stranger tonight.

Ma made pudding for dessert, everyone except for Tim and Jason lured in by the sweetness. Tim has wheeled Jason with him out onto the porch, both taking a moment to appreciate the short time they, supposedly, have left. He sits on the porch swing next to the other, shivers a little from the chill night but he will suffer it knowing warm, sun-kissed arms will be holding him tonight.

"Ya sure this'll work?"

"I don't know," as much as he hopes it does work," we're going to find out. You do want your Tim back, don't you?"

Jason hums. "I do. I really do."

"Then try not to break out the kryptonite until the morning."

Jason's lip curls. "If he does anythin' but sleep he's gonna lose his steel balls."

Tim smiles, reaches over to place a hand over one of Jason's, the closest to him. "I know this has been hard for you. I'm sure your Tim, wherever he is, wants to come home too."

"I know," Jason tries to hide the crack in his voice with a cough.

"Um, Tim?" Conner nervously sticks his head through the doorway. His eyes snap to Jason for a tense moment, the two staring each other down. "I'm... ready when you are."

Jason says nothing as he gives a final pat and stands, following Conner inside. He says goodnight to Ma, Bruce and Clark, the latter two who share a silent look. Krypto trails behind them as they enter Conner's bedroom, tail wagging lightly. Tim isn't surprised when nothing looks different from his Kon's bedroom except for there being no picture of the both of them together as a couple.

Tim sits on the single bed, takes off his shoes, mind wandering as Conner changes into sweatpants for sleep. He wears a thin layer of pajamas, anticipates the heat of the half-kryptonian's skin. His fingers stretch against the cotton feel of the blanket beneath him, reminds him of his first kiss with Kon, his first everything with Kon. He squeezes his eyes tight, grips onto whatever sanity he has left lying around in the calm corners of his mind.

A warm hand on his shoulder is followed by," Hey, are you okay?"

Tim opens his eyes, view filled up with the concerned face of Conner Kent. It's a weak imitation of what he wants, what he needs, but just enough for him to grasp and use. "Yeah. I'm going to lie down now."

Conner hesitates, nods and let's him go. He waits for Tim to settle under the blanket before slipping in close, wraps strong arms around the slender, nimble frame of the other. There's no kiss to the temple on the cusp of slumber Tim is used to, has come to expect, however, there is warmth cocooning him in a familiar setting, Krypto curled up on their feet. The sound of crickets outside the window helps put him to sleep :

And Tim dreams.

If he were able to analyze this sleep state, he'd liken it to lucid dreaming. He can see himself moving and yet he can see through his own eyes too.

He is barefoot. He is naked. He is a silhouette of colors without true form.

There are also warm swirls of blues and yellows, soft glows in the otherwise dark abyss he finds himself traveling through. There are dots, blobs, possible portals. Each step is slow, is the only sound he can hear other than silence in this place.

It feels like he is treading through water. His thoughts are fragments. Everything is blurry, unfocused in a way that resembles a camera's fixation unable to detect an object clearly for a photograph.

Tim does not know where to go, where he is headed, how he can escape.

Until - _ah, yes_! In the distance he sees an embodiment of warmth and protection, a figure colored in bright blues and solid reds. _It's Kon_ , he rejoices, single-minded in his renewed goal.

There is hope and joy, emotions thick and clinging to him like fabric, like a second skin.

Something is tugging him back, however, an unnamed force sinks harshly into him with sticky, greedy hands, tries to herd him elsewhere. It scares Tim. He fights for control, struggles to move forward again.

_Kon!_ He screams, it echoes mutely, he reaches -

Misses. Panics. Keeps screaming.

The indescribable keeps tugging, steers him to the left, then right.

Naturally, he fights. Everything boils down to base instinct, to claw at any scrap of consciousness he can use to push back. It feels like he's drowning, being pulled under by an invisible, steadily losing his grip.

He cannot surrender. He must keep going.

He needs to go home.

He wants to go home.

_Kon, Kon, **Kon!**_

He fears, he trips, he falls.


	2. Part [2] - The Confusion of Conner Kent

Tim makes a soft noise, legs stretching down towards the end of the bed, there is a creaking in his bones, the kinks working themselves out. He feels warm, too warm almost, reaches a hand down to pat at the arm slung across his waist. The feeling of the appendage, however, is odd, different in some way he can't figure out in the moment. His fingers smooth along the bare skin until he reaches a hand, the fingers encase his own immediately and -

His eyes shoot open, bolting upright in bed so that he may turn to regard the body sharing the bed with him. "Who - ?" He doesn't recognize the person next to him, a boy his age with dark black hair and bulky figure fit for a football player. He jolts slightly when the stranger opens their eyes to reveal strikingly blue irises (bluer and brighter than anything he has ever seen) that stare straight through him. "What are you doing?"

The boy-stranger-guy snorts. "Lookin' at your bedhead. You look so cute in the mornin'."

"Excuse me?" He squeaks, is uncertain what to think of this. "Who are you? And... and," Tim finally shifts his gaze around the room," where am I?"

This is the bedroom of a teenage boy, one who hangs posters of sports players and rock bands, whose clothes are half-hanging from dresser drawers and leaves papers scattered on the floor along with different pairs of sneakers. Tim notices a window by the headboard and peeks out to an open field of green, sees a barnhouse not too far away. _Where am I?_

"Tim, babe, you okay?"

That snaps his attention back to the person. "Don't call me babe," he bristles.

This guy has the nerve to roll his eyes! "I've been calling you that for the last three years, I think it's a little late for a nickname change. You have a bad dream or something?"

"I don't even know you." Tim belatedly moves away and out of the bed, a bit embarrassed by the disorientation and doubly when he realizes he's only in boxers. "Where's Jason?"

"Your brother? I don't know, back in Gotham maybe? In space? Causing trouble with the Outlaws?"

"What are you even talking about," Tim wrinkles his nose while saying this. "And where are my clothes? Where am I even?" This guy - and _woah that is a very defined chest, Timmy look away_ \- sits up to reveal he is shirtless and also only in boxers. "Oh my god, tell me we didn't get drunk and have sex."

"What? You're being really snarky today," Mr. Nice Chest Guy laughs," and you know you don't drink and I can't get drunk. What is with you?"

"I want Jason," Tim demands, now angry.

"Babe." There's concern knitting between the guy's eyebrows and Tim really shouldn't find it kinda cute only because, well, he already has a super hot boyfriend and isn't looking for a replacement thank you very much.

"Don't call me that," he snaps impatiently. "Where are my clothes? Where is Jason?"

This guy (should he ask for a name or something?) gets up and starts throwing clothes on ( _bye bye nice chest you will be missed - I mean -_ ) as he talks. "You brought a fresh pair. It's probably in your bag." He pauses to pop his head through a shirt. "Unless you wanna wear one of mine. You looked really cute in my Captain Falcon shirt last time."

Tim blushes. _Last time?_ Then blurts out," Fox is better."

It's a dumb, but automatic thing he says. He's surprised when he gets a snort to his flippant comment. "Shut up, you always say that."

"It's the truth," he sniffs indignantly because Jason and him have this conversation every time they play Super Smash Bros (Jason can be very savage with Link and bomb throwing the jerk) and he turns to see a bag with a triforce logo on it. He moves closer and hesitantly unzips it, pulls out clothes that are definitely his size, but he doesn't recognize.

"Ma made pancakes. I can smell them from here."

"Um," Tim turns around to meet the stranger's stare, feels himself flushing when neither look away. "Can you turn around? Or just, uh, not look?"

This guy - this really handsome guy, _Timmy, stop thinking like this_ \- raises a brow, mouth splitting into a mirthful grin. "Gettin' shy on me, babe? Not like I haven't seen all the goodies before."

And, oh, this cheeky, cheesy, unfairly attractive cassanova is going to get him in some real trouble if he doesn't get dressed and find Jason real quick. "Look, I really appreciate the humor and all, but I really don't want you to watch me get dressed or anger my boyfriend."

A confused purse of lips. "I am your boyfriend."

And Tim, well, he's about to spiral into a black hole or something because that can't possibly be true, but this guy sounds very sincere and _oh my god was I kidnapped by a stalker???_ "Are you crazy? Oh god, are you a stalker? Oh god, oh god." Tim is holding out the clothes gripped tightly in his hands as a flimsy sort of barrier as he panics.

"Woah, Tim," the guy is standing, hands out in the universal surrender pose because he too isn't sure what to make of this. "Calm down. You know me. I'm Conner, Kon, your boyfriend, your clone boy."

"I don't know you!"

"Boys!" A woman's voice calls up the stairs and they both freeze. "Is everything alright up there?"

"Yeah," the guy, Conner, yells," be down in a minute, Ma."

"I've made breakfast, come get it while it's hot!"

They wait a beat in silence before Conner speaks again, slowly as if Tim is a frightened animal. "Look, uh, I'll meet you downstairs okay? Just, um, you know, get dressed and come have some breakfast." Conner continued to look at him weirdly until he finally decided to leave the bedroom, closing the door gently behind him.

This gave Tim the isolation he needed to properly **_freak the fudge out_**.

This is, well, beyond crazy and weird and _oh my god what am I going to do? Where's Jason? Where am I?_

He paces, anxious and unsure if he should dress then go downstairs or dress then jump out the window. He could run, run right out the door and scream for help because he had to have been kidnapped right? Was he drugged last night? What had he even been doing...

Jason. He remembers watching Tomb Raider with Jason before going to bed, the usual routine since they'd moved to Japan and rented out their little apartment across the fruit market. The last thing he remembers is falling asleep next to Jason, cozy under the blankets, sharing body warmth with his boyfriend.

So how did he end up here?

Tim finds himself getting dressed quickly, unable to stall any longer and instead of chancing a trip out the window, quietly makes his way downstairs to the first floor of this stranger's house. He can hear clanking to his left and ventures closer, peeking around a corner to discover a kitchen.

In the kitchen Tim spots Conner at a table helping himself to a large stack of pancakes and other breakfast foods. There is a woman at the counter, older than them, older than his own mother, fiddling with silverware. She turns around and spots him being a creeper. "Tim, come sit down and eat. I made your favorite."

She says it sweetly, smiling and she's beautiful in a unique way with her crow's feet and laugh lines. He sits across from Conner hesitantly, an awkward staring contest ensuing. Without breaking eye contact, Tim reaches for a butter knife to spread some cream cheese on a bagel because he can't pass up on these yummy edibles he's been offered. It's mostly out of politeness that he bites into the bagel and hums happily, still suspicious, but grateful for the meal ; his stomach felt like an empty pit of nothingness, needs something to prevent the rumbling soon to follow. He can only hope nothing is poisoned.

Once he's eaten a bit, Tim wipes his mouth with a napkin and looks over at the woman. "Thank you for breakfast. Um, can I use the phone?"

"You're welcome, sweetheart. But don't you have one of those fancy cellphones? You can use the house phone if you want."

"Uh, yeah. You're right, it's upstairs, I think. I'm going to uh," he glances at Conner warily," make a phone call."

And without preamble he is up and quickly ascending the stairs, shielding himself behind the wooden door of Conner's bedroom. He doesn't get to see Ma Kent and Conner exchange worried glances.

_Okay, okay, just breathe._ He searches through his bag quickly, panics when he finds that the phone has a password screen and his usual code doesn't work.

He tries his birthday, looks at the error message like it has done him a personal wrong ; it kind of did. He sits on the unmade bed biting his lip, trying to outsmart himself because of course it wouldn't be something that easy. It's the same phone he has, but the password is different, must be something trickier, harder to guess.

He types the date of his parents' anniversary backwards and the phone screen unlocks much to his relief, immediately scrolling through his contacts. He doesn't recognize some of the names listed, mostly nicknames ( _who is ‘Batdad’, ‘Bart5000’ or ‘Demon Brat’???_ ) but he does recognize a number labeled under ‘Helmet Hair’.

He calls it, heart beating faster the longer he has to wait for an answer.

"Timbo," is the greeting.

"Jay!" Tim might actually start weeping he is so relieved. "Jay, I need your help."

"What happened?" Jason's tone is serious, all business. "Tim? What happened? Are ya in danger?"

"I-I don't know where I am," Tim starts and, oh, he's shaking a little as he slides down to sit on the floor, back against the foot of the bed. "I woke up here, uh, next to a guy - Conner? He said his name was Conner and that he's my boyfriend -"

A loud laugh causes static to burst across the connection. "No shit. I know Tim, I gave him the shovel talk, ‘member?"

_What?_ "What?"

"Is he there? Are ya tryin’ to prank him or somethin’?"

"No, he's downstairs, um. Can you... can you come get me?" Tim hates sounding so vulnerable, so weak, but for Jason he hides nothing, not even his fears.

Maybe Jason knows this Conner guy, maybe he was dropped off here for some reason. It just... feels so weird. Nothing is making any sense.

"... did he do somethin’ to ya?" And there, that tone, is the anger Tim knows, the Jason Todd who will come beating down some poor soul's door and kick ass for Tim.

"I wanna go home," he mumbles instead of giving a direct reply because, well, he wasn't sure. All Tim knows is he woke up in a house he doesn't remember next to a guy calling him 'babe'. All Tim knows is he needs Jason.

"Okay," Jason is saying and there is shuffling in the background, of movement. "Okay, I'm comin’ to get ya. Ya at the Kent farm, right? I'll be there as soon as I can. Hang tight."

Relief floods Tim's chest, feeling better knowing that Jason is coming to get him. "What should, um, I do until then?"

A pause of silence, like Jason is thinking, wondering. "I don't know. Just wait. If ya are in a fight with the clone then I guess just ask for space or somethin’. I'll be there soon, just hold on."

And then the strangest thing happens : Jason hangs up without so much as a goodbye.

Tim blinks in surprise after a moment of waiting for his customary send off. It doesn't come. No 'I love you' or 'Can't wait to see your cute ass' or anything inbetween that Jason usually quips out before ending a call.

_Something is wrong._ He thinks sourly. _Something is very wrong here._

\---

As it turns out, Jason isn't the only one who responds to his distress call.

Jason's older brother, Dick, is also there looking all varying degrees of concern and protective. He's relieved to see them both, standing on the porch of the Kent house (something he learned after talking to Mrs. Kent while Conner was out on the farm plowing the fields and checking on the cows) as each step out of a nice red convertible. Dick is walking to him fast, worry plain on his face and scoops him into one of those infamous octopus hugs Jason is always playfully complaining about.

"You okay, Timmy? Did something happen?"

Tim is honestly flattered by the question, Dick was kind and took care in keeping track of his brother and Tim even when Jason was in a spat with their adoptive father, Bruce, or something else. "I'm okay I just... want to go home," Tim states with his cheek mushed against the taller's chest.

"Where is he?"

Tim looks at Jason peering down at him, brows drawn, a tight frown on his face. "Don't hurt him," said quickly, hurriedly," it's okay we can just leave."

"Not happenin’. Is that him down by the barn?" Even as he's talking, he's moving, storming off towards the red painted building in the distance.

Tim feels more than hears Dick chuckling, still not willing to let him out of the strong embrace. "Don't worry. I made sure he couldn't get his hands on any kryptonite. He even asked Bruce, but he said unless there was a clear reason the answer was no."

"Kryptonite? Like for Superman?" Voice obviously confused because what does that have to do with anything? Was Dick making fun of him for being a comic book nerd? Great, now both brothers were going to give him a hard time (as if Jason could really talk when he was a Wonder Woman fan too) and all they needed was to goad Damian (not that it would be hard considering Damian didn't like him to begin with) into the game and all three Wayne boys could have their fun at his expense.

And Dick is... giving him an odd look. Did he say something weird? Everyone knew about Superman and Tim was fairly certain Jason once told him that Dick still owned Superman pajamas.

"Tim!" Mrs. Kent calls from inside the house," Bring everyone in, I made lemon cakes and ice tea."

After another glance toward the barn, Dick and Tim make their way inside, the former chatting up the elder woman with a friendly smile while the latter sips iced tea from a cup decorated with sunflowers. It is almost disconcerting seeing the ease between Mrs. Kent and Dick, something familiar there between them. Did they always know each other? Was his assumption correct in believing Jason also knew Conner?

"Timmy," Dick sing-songs, taking a seat next to him, smile soft and gentle. A sense of foreboding swirls in his anxiety-riddled brain at the expression, feeling like a child about to be patronizingly reprimanded by a parent. "You going to tell me what happened now?"

Mrs. Kent has mysteriously disappeared between the time Tim was taking a quiet moment to think and Dick sitting down. Tim knows a trap when he sees one.

"It's fine, really. I just... was surprised when I woke up here. I don't remember how I got here."

Dick still has that patient smile, blinking at him in what appears to be bewilderment. "You practically live here, Tim. You haven't been home since... well," at this Dick's expression turns guilty. "Maybe you can visit? For a little bit - until this thing with Conner blows over. Whatever it is! I know you don't want to open up to me about your problems much anymore, but I'm always here, Tim. I never left. I'm still your big brother."

Now it's Tim's turn to feel confused because where did that come from and what is going on?

Before he can open his mouth and inquire, the front door slides open and bangs lightly closed. Conner and Jason are speaking, he can only make out part of the conversation, "I'm telling you, he woke up in a panic. I'm not sure why -" before both go silent upon seeing who's sitting in the kitchen.

"Hey Dick."

"Hey," greeted back in that friendly Dick Grayson way. "Everything okay?"

Jason's eyes are staring at Tim like he is an equation with too many variables to consider. "Not sure yet. What was up with this mornin’, babybird?"

Babybird? The nickname is new and if Jason wasn't boring a hole in his face maybe he'd mistake the one being addressed. "Uh, what about this morning?"

"Yer little panic attack," Jason snarks, pulling up a chair across from him while Conner takes Tim's unoccupied side. Which is strange. Also Jason’s Gotham accent is particularly thick today.

Tim makes a pained noise, embarrassed under the scrutiny. "I want to go home, Jay. Can't we just go home?"

And all three give him that odd look, the one that makes him feel small.

"Tim," Conner's smooth voice talks to him in a comforting tenor, draws his attention. He doesn't flush under those warm bright blue eyes at all (except he totally does). "We're really worried here. Did... did I do something? You seemed fine last night."

"You can talk to us," Dick adds in.

"Fine last night? I've never met you until this morning."

And this Conner guy actually looks hurt at that comment. "Babe, we've been dating for almost four years."

Tim's eyes widen, large and beautiful (Jason always thought so, always told him so) with disbelief and shock at such a claim. "Jason is my boyfriend."

That choking noise he hears is Jason about to suffocate on his own spit, but a panicked Dick is the one nearly shouting," What?"

"Jason is my boyfriend... you know this, Dick. You complain about having to travel across an entire ocean just to visit us if it isn't a holiday."

"Across the ocean?"

"Japan, Dick. Jason and I rent an apartment in Hokkaido."

"What the actual fuck?"

Jason sounds... angry and confused, possibly disgusted. Tim can feel himself sinking into himself, feeling vulnerable, ready to close down because that isn't the way his boyfriend is supposed to treat him, with suspicion and denial.

"Tim," Conner sounds constipated when he speaks," he's your brother."

And for some reason, like a damsel in distress, he faints.

> [Wayne Manor, Gotham]

Groggily, as if he were drunk, Tim wakes up in unfamiliar territory.

He's lying on a soft cot, beeping machines surrounding him doing... something? He recognizes a heart monitor and a fluid IV taped to his right forearm, but everything else is too hazy or his brain too offline to register anything else other than - _Holy Batman! I'm in the Batcave!_

He's only been to the batcave twice : once after Jason revealed to him the secret that could've changed everything, and once more when Batman (Bruce Wayne) went missing about two years back.

Belatedly Tim also realizes that there is someone sitting beside him in a chair, tapping a button or two on one of the many machines. "Hew... 'ello?"

A scary gauntlet-clad hand (that's the Batman's hand _ohmygod_ ) reaches over to rest over Tim's, the grip strong and comforting. "I'm right here, Tim. Just breathe and lie still for me."

_Bruce_ , he could never mistake that deep baritone voice. _It's Bruce Wayne._

"Wha... doin'?" He slurs, can't get his mouth to work right, tongue heavy.

"Running tests. Checking for abnormalities. You should've called me."

The last part is a small reproach, has him whimpering faintly because failure never tasted good, only bitter and hollow ( _I'm sorry Mom, I'll do better. Please Dad, I promise to be good if you take me with you on the next trip_ ). "Sowwy."

"You're okay, Tim."

It's Bruce's face he sees when looking up, the emblem of the Bat a dark smudge across a chest of grey. Nothing compares to that same startling reminder that he knows **Batman** which is super cool and if he could tell his younger self that someday he would be able to meet one of his greatest heroes that would be fantastic.

"Jay?"

"Be here soon. Conner is..." Bruce's lips thin, obviously uncertain if what he is about to say will do more harm than good. "... waiting upstairs for you."

"Want Jay," he mumbles petulantly. Bruce gives him a chuckle, turns in his chair to be able to reach his other hand out and push Tim's unruly bangs out of his face tenderly. Whatever drugs he's being given to make him this compliant (the good stuff, Timmy) also make it easier to focus on the gentle gesture, of the security Bruce represents, pushes the _blips_ and _beeps_ into the background of white fuzzy noise.

From one blink to the next everything changes. He must've fallen asleep during the time he'd first come to. Now there is someone else sitting in the chair next to him.

"Hey," Jason greets him lazily with a book in one hand. When Tim squints the cover tells him its Stephen King's _Christine_ , the vintage car a shiny red image on the front. "Big man says yer in the clear. The last of the drugs should be filterin’ out in the next hour or less."

"Wanna go home, Jay."

It's as good as a plea the way it tumbles from his lips. Tim wants to go back to their little apartment and have tea with the neighbors, water the bansai Jason insisted they get when they first moved in, go back to the coziness of the life they had created.

Jason glances over from his book, looking pensive and almost irritated. "Ya are home."

"No..." Tim is finding words easier. "Back home, Jay."

Setting the book down, Jason leans over him, peering closely. "Timbo," he clicks his tongue disapprovingly," where the fuck did ya come up with alla this mumbo jumbo, huh? Japan, really? Since when were we ever that kind o’ smoozy? I know I've teased ya 'bout the crush thing before, but this is kinda takin’ the joke too far, ya feel me?"

The Gotham accent makes Tim smile instinctively, always found it so cute when Jason would sink back into his roots, especially knowing the accent meant his boyfriend was saying something that made him emotional. "You're funny, Jay."

"Yeah, I'm hilarious," Jason snorts.

Tim looks up at that face, the face he wakes up to every morning, the one he's fallen in love with. Instinct has him leaning up, Jason still looming over him, trying to initiate a kiss.

The other man rears back hard enough to have the chair he's sitting on screech a few inches back on the floor away from the cot. Jason's eyes are wild, shocked and -

Tim blinks. _Why do Jason's eyes look green?_

"Don't ever do that again," Jason growls, standing abruptly.

"Wha -"

"Don't. Do. That. Again."

Tim gulps, has never seen Jason angry (a lie, but Jason never gets mad at him, even when he does things he knows he shouldn't do) about something so small. "I can't kiss you?"

A dark look makes him shrink back, doesn't question any further.

Their staring contest is broken up when someone comes down into the cave, a whoosh! of air his only warning before that guy (Conner, he said his name was Conner) appears at the foot of the cot. He's glaring at Jason, something akin to disapproval and threat reflected in those blue eyes, eyes that almost look like they are glowing.

"Is there a problem?"

Jason scoffs. "Ya should probably look after yer lover boy. Before he tries to kiss someone else."

He storms off, leaving Tim with Conner alone in the quiet of the cave. Now Tim is painfully aware of the IV in his arm and the rustle of something above him, little chirpings of an animal. After a few moments Conner is marching to the other side of the cot to sit in the now unoccupied chair looking weary and sad. He doesn't need to feel bad (this isn't his fault, he doesn't know what's going on _so please stop giving me those puppydog eyes okay?_ ) but he does feel unhappy about how things just went down.

He can't fathom why Jason would be mad over a kiss or demand him not to do it at all. They are dating, they live together, reshaped their lives together. _Did I do something wrong?_ He hates not knowing, hates being unable to solve this with questions and answers. _Is it because I woke up next to another guy? Is he leaving me?_

"Tim," Conner's voice takes him out of his unnerved thoughts. "Tim, what is going on with you? First you say you don't know me, that you can't remember falling asleep with me last night. And then," a deep breath and the clenching of a jaw," you tell me Jason of all people is your boyfriend? And you try to kiss him?"

"Jason is -" Tim starts to insist.

"No," Conner grounds out," he's not. I am. I've been with you for a long time. I've been your bestfriend for longer. I was there at your lowest, at your highest, the same you did for me. I -" He stutters another deep breath in, has trouble letting it back out. "I love you. I've been in love with you for nearly five years. I don't understand what's going on."

"I'm sorry," Tim honestly feels bad albeit awkward because what is this guy going on about? "But I have no idea what you're talking about."

Conner opens his mouth, shuts it, doesn't seem to know what to say to that.

A roar of an engine snaps their attention over to the other side of the cave, bats scatter and screech above at the sound as the Batmobile (the freaking Batmobile!) enters and parks. Tim watches in awe (because he's a total fanboy) as the doors flip up and out steps Batman and Robin.

"You're awake, Drake. I was starting to think you were playing dead."

Damian's sass is nothing new to Tim. Ever since he started dating Jason and, as reported by Damian, stole all of his time away from his family (unfounded) and was after Jason's money via being the adoptive son of a Wayne (also unfounded, clearly since he was a Drake) Damian has directed nothing, but ire towards him.

"Not going to call me a harpy this time? Or wench. Or an incubus? That last one really is my favorite so far. I'm actually flattered."

Damian squawked, speeding quickly to where Tim lay. "I would never flatter you as a seductor, Drake! You couldn't keep a lover if you tried."

"Enough," Bruce rumbles, sounding oddly amused and concerned rolled into one. Pushing back the cowl, he eyes Tim and Conner. "Everything fine, boys?"

"Peachy," Tim says the same time his stomach rumbles. "Maybe a bit hungry. How long do I have to stay in this bed and what's the best way to beg Alfred for food?"

"I'm sure he'll be more than happy to cook for you, Tim. The testing is done, all we need to do is wait for results. Come upstairs."

The Batman trails behind a still red-faced Damian up the cave stairs, Tim detaching any machine equipment quickly to follow. He doesn't even bother to see if Conner is coming too.

Alfred, as expected, is already in the kitchen fixing up lunch. Cubed sandwiches appear to be this afternoon's specialty, Tim's mouth watering at the sight.

"Ah, Master Tim. Nice of you to join us for lunch. It has been far too long since you've last graced the Manor with your presence." Alfred raises a pointed brow.

Tim is, well, sheepish because Jason and him don't come around as often as they should. "Sorry, Alfred. You know I don't mean to ignore anybody."

"Perhaps."

Tim sits down at the table, smiling in gratitude when Alfred places a loaded plate infront of him, doing the same to Bruce and Conner. Damian sniffs delicately and informs them all very loudly that he is going to his room and requires privacy before storming off.

"I really hope he's just drawing," Tim mutters jokingly since Jason isn't here to make the usual jab. Bruce has a subtle twitch while mid-way through drinking a cup of liquid. Conner is smiling at him, a little troubled, but also with humor. Tim happily munches on his meal until Alfred places down a cup of his own. "Oh," eyes flip between the beverage and the butler," I... can have a cup? Of coffee?"

"Why wouldn't ya?"

Jason's voice almost makes him squeak, almost. "Really? You're not going to lecture me about the health issues of coffee drinkers or threaten me with veggie smoothies for a week if I have more than one cup?"

"No?" Jason looks bewildered at the prospect. He takes a seat, ignores everyone when he's handed his own plate. "Who the fuck cares."

“Language, Master Jason.”

Tim eyes him suspiciously because since when was he allowed coffee anymore? "Oh... okay, thank you." Jason grunts, unfocused on the conversation now. Tim takes the warm cylinder in hand, sneaks a glance back at Jason before taking a sip of heaven. A sharp intake of breath later and he's half-tempted to chug the whole drink and ask for more.

"Slow down," he hears beside him, a laugh as a hand guides his still clutching the cup down from his mouth for a moment of respite. "You're going to drown in it like that."

Conner is smiling at him in that fond way people who look at their lover do ; it's grating, anxiety-inducing and wonderful all at the same time. "I'll take my chances."

"What a way to go," Conner snarks, half-grinning and Tim doesn't realize he's grinning until it's too late and why are they still touching hands?

"Get a room you two."

Tim colors red while Conner says something sassy in response, but he's too busy looking at Tim to seem bothered, blue eyes almost luminescent, almost alien.

He gulps and leans away, eyes averted as he drinks in silence, cheeks still red. He can feel Conner's eyes burning across his frame, twisting his insides into melted goo because that is a gaze of someone's honest-to-god interested attention, the kind he's used to Jason staring at him with.

What backwards reality did he magically get teleported into?

_Houston we have a problem._

\---

Jason disappeared, Dick and Damian are bonding down in the cave (former duo of Batman and Robin, isn't it just cool that Tim **knows** these people and since when was his life ever that rad?) while Bruce went to a board meeting and Tim is being escorted to his room (on the behest of Alfred to rest after such a terrible morning head start) by Conner who, like a gentleman, opens the door for him and -

"This is my room?"

"Yeah," Conner closes the door, pokes him in the back when he stops short of the entryway. "You don't recognize your own room?"

As Conner is snickering, Tim takes a tour around. He touches things lightly : a cartoonish drawing of Wonder Woman sporting a proud smile next to an assortment of wires, paper clips and mechanical parts on his desk. There are papers scattered in corners of the floor beside laundry ( _ew how old is that, I don't want to sniff to judge it by smell_ ) and an assortment of electronics. Opening a draw of his desk reveals dozens of flash drives locked under a glass casing that requires a code and, nope, not going to touch that. On the bed are two laptops, one older and scratched up, the other clean and obviously loved by how well it's been taken care of and the old Superman logo sticker on the front along with the Flash's and, of course, Batman's. The bedsheets are messy, pillowcases and blanket a dull grey and there is a crack on the top left of the headboard.

Conner carefully moves the laptops to a side table, knocking over an empty soda can in the process, before flopping down on the bed. "So, how are you feeling?"

The sentence sounded a bit forced, too nonchalant. Tim chose not to comment on it. "Better now that I've had some food." He was still awkwardly standing there, wondering why Conner was here, why he hadn't been taken to Jason's old room in the Manor where they usually stayed when they came for a visit. "Do you know where Jay went?"

Conner had to be one of Jason's friends, he had concluded this after Conner showed up at the Manor alongside them. The whole debacle downstairs was just a spur of the moment thing, a love confession that Jason knew about, had probably sensed and was fuming about internally instead of facing the problem directly in some roundabout way (not the first time and surely not the last) for Tim's sake. Oh god, did he really cheat on Jason last night?

He doesn't remember Conner before today, never met the guy. He would remember ( _a hot guy like that is hard to forget okay brain shut up_ ) and last night was probably the first time. It would make sense, if this Conner guy was in love with Tim (he can't fathom why, wonders about Jason's choices sometimes) then it would mean minimal contact would be advised. So why had Jason left Tim in Conner's hands? And how did he go from falling asleep beside Jason last night to waking up in Conner's bed this morning?

Conner gives him a weird look, a cross between disappointed and annoyed. "No. Since when do you keep tabs on him?"

Tim feels something akin to anger bubbling up, but he's too tired to fight. Instead he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, sighs," Who are you really?"

"What?"

"Who are you? I don't remember meeting you before this morning."

Conner gets this _aha!_ expression. "Maybe you did wake up with amnesia."

"Amnesia?" Tim huffs and turns his head to narrow his eyes at the other young man.

"The memory problems? Your dad thinks it's amnesia."

"My dad?" His heart lurches suddenly, had someone called his father -

"Bruce," said quizzically, like he of all people should know," Bruce Wayne."

"He's not my dad."

Conner rolls his eyes," It was a joke. And don't say that too loudly. You know how your family gets when you starting saying things like that. Get all Bat-possessive or whatever. Dick and Jason looked ready to fight me when I said I was flying you to the Manor."

"Wait, we flew here?"

"Well, yeah. Power of flight and all, even better than the Bat-plane."

"You can fly?"

Conner grins, gives a lazy salute. "Superboy Airlines at your service."

"Superboy?" Blinking confusion when - _click!_ "You're Superboy?"

"The one and only." Tim watches him with sharp focus and awe. He's only ever met the Bats, Superman (which was the coolest _thanks Jay, best birthday ever_ ) and Kori and Roy who'd been a part of Jason's former vigilante group, the Outlaws. Or has he? "You really don't remember," Conner says slowly while sitting up and reaching a hand out to touch fingertips with Tim.

"No. Should I?" It comes out more defensive than he means to, nerves alight where they are touching.

He should pull away, he should create some distance as Conner ( _Superboy!_ ) leans closer with a smile. "Yes, considering all the secrets I know about you." Tim pouts at that, as he often does when Jason teases him which is all the time. "What are you thinking about? Come on, tell me." Conner's smile turns smirk and their faces are only a few inches apart. "Don't make me Vulcan mind meld you."

Tim breaks out in surprised laughter. "Ohmygod."

"Yeah?"

"Just ohmygod."

"Hey," Conner playfully says," you made me a Trekkie. This is your fault."

"Everyone should be cultured in Star Trek. It reshaped science fiction!"

"And nerds."

"You're one of us," Tim reminds," you just proved that."

"True. Spock is awesome."

"Bones is the coolest character."

"He has the worst job," Conner laughs. "How many STDs did he have to cure Kirk from?"

"Gross."

"Exactly."

Tim watches Conner with a more considering look. "You know, you're kind of funny."

Conner grins, their faces still close, wiggles his eyebrows goofily. "I've been told I'm a lot of things."

"Oh yeah?"

"Like," he breathes and their lips are almost touching, Tim is kind of panicking, but also horribly flustered and suffering from a sudden case of paralysis," that I'm a fantastic kisser."

"Fantastic?" He tries to sound amused, but he's feeling too dizzy to try.

"Uh-huh." Conner's eyes are half-mast and that blue glow is all Tim can see, all Tim can focus on. He shouldn't be okay with this, shouldn't be sitting there when the obvious course of action is to pull away, remind Conner **again** that Jason is his boyfriend and he is happy with that relationship even if things have become rocky for a moment.

"Are you...?" _Why am I asking?_

_Why am I not doing anything?_

"Maybe." The tease is light, Conner's eyes are sparkling with all these unsaid things that twist and turn low in Tim's gut. "I don't know if you remember, but I love kissing you."

"Oh," so breathless it is hardly a word and more of an exhale.

Conner chuckles at that.

Tim doesn't remember Conner or that Conner supposedly loved to kiss him. He didn't remember ever referring to Bruce as his Dad or how he ended up in someone else's bed when he fell asleep next to Jason. He didn't remember his phone code earlier because it was new, he had just gotten an updated one afterall.

What backwards reality did he magically get teleported into -

Reality. Teleported. Waking up to Conner, Jason getting mad about trying to kiss him, everything feeling similar, but different. Bruce had claimed it was a sudden spur of amnesia yet Tim is very certain and coherent in his memories.

"Oh!" Tim jumps up excitedly, clapping his hands loudly. "Of course, why didn't I see it earlier? It seems so obvious now."

Conner is blinking at him in confusion, still leant forward ( _don't think about it, that would've been a huge mistake Timmy_ ) and he's sure he looks like a madman. "What's so obvious?"

"That I'm in an alternate universe!" Tim starts to babble statistical nonsense, about how he feels like a main character in a comic book, the probability of this ever happening. "Bruce," he finally blurts out. "He would know. He would be able to do the tests. We only did the medical check up, but what if it's magic? Ohmygod, it's magic, isn't it?"

"You're a wizard, Timmy."

And Tim... can totally see himself falling in love with this dork. Also that means this reality's Tim is dating Superboy. _Go me!_

"We have to talk to Bruce."

"He's out," Conner relays the information as if reciting the weather. "Don't know when he'll be back. Are you sure you're feeling okay? Why don't you lie down, babe?"

"Don't call me that," Tim says automatically with a little more bite than he should.

_I know I'm Jason's. You just don't believe me yet._

"We still going with this? Man, this is gonna suck until you get your memories back. You actually made me believe we were breaking up before!"

"I'm being serious." Tim bristles, crossing his arms.

"I know, I know," Conner smiles uneasily, hurt shining in those alien eyes ( _Kryptonian! How cool is that?_ ) and lounges back on one side of the bed while patting the other invitingly. "We can nap until Bruce gets back. Please? Not sure if you remember this, but I make a great portable heater. You really like that."

That... sounds nice, actually. Jason always teasingly complained about how he was a blanket hog, would roll into a big burrito for bed, needing the cocooned warmth in order to sleep. _Jason knows it makes me feel safe, like when I was a kid. When they was no one to hug me in the middle of the night after a nightmare._ Jason never got mad that Tim didn't snuggle up when they went to bed, never pushed, never prodded, respected Tim's boundaries and reasons.

"Fine. A small nap..."

He doesn't realize how tired he is until he's settled down, surrounded by the scent of downy cotton. He is about to wrap the large blanket (he misses the blue wool blanket Dick had bought him as a housewarming gift) around himself when Conner pulls him into a broad chest. It startles him, stills him and the first thing he thinks is, _Wow he's as hot as a furnace!_

Noticing how frozen the other is in his arms, Conner asks belatedly," This okay?"

"Um." Tim should say no. Instead he says," Yeah. Surprised me."

"Don't worry, everything will go back to normal soon." Conner reassures him, wrapping two arms around him securely and turns them on their sides to be comfortable. “And we won’t stay here longer than necessary.”

Tim is too busy marveling at how easily he fits in Conner's arms, how natural it is, how comforting and safe he feels. He doesn't realize he's drifting off, thinking drowsily and then he's out.

\---

Conner isn't sleeping. In fact, he's wide awake.

Conner is worried, the kind of worried he gets when epic levels of wrong is going on. Like when Bart sulks in a corner instead of stuffing his face, or the big S is awkwardly trying small talk about his life ( _yeah, no thanks Clark, let's keep it simple_ ), or when his self-destructive boyfriend runs headfirst into danger without any forewarning.

This, right here, right now, is wrong.

It rasps against his bones, rattles his skull with an intensity he hasn't felt in a long time. It's painful, beyond physical, it's worse, it's **mental**. Conner can do many things : he can lift heavy objects, ricochet bullets off his chest, use heat vision to cut in half solid metal, but he doesn't deal with heartache well.

Tim is his everything. What is he supposed to do now?

He looks down at the mop of black hair under his nose, dares a light kiss against the soft, silky strands. He tries not to tighten up his grip too much, wants Tim to sleep, be peaceful. Honestly he also doesn't want to hear anymore of Tim's frantic words about being someone else's, about not knowing who his own boyfriend is.

_Jason_ , Conner thinks deliriously. _Jason of all people. I can't even imagine it._

Except he kind of can, kind of has been obsessing over it since Tim's first words that morning and all the other declarations that followed. He can't help, but picture Tim trying to kiss Jason down in the cave, how big and sad those indigo blues looked when asking about Jason. He didn't want to see it, he didn't want to believe it.

Tim's half-mast eyes, chin tilted up. Jason smirking down at the other, roughened hands and fingers sinking into dark hair, keeping Tim still. Their lips (Tim's are a soft baby pink, so cute, so loved by Conner's tongue and teeth and own lips) touching, molding together, of Tim melting and giving that little, quiet sigh he does when kissed.

It burns something ugly and nasty within Conner.

After all the hell the Bats have put Tim through, Conner can’t fathom giving a piece of Tim up to anyone else, especially them. All he wants is for Tim to get better so they can go home.

He doesn't realize his eyes are shining red until he takes in a deep breath and blinks hard. Tim wouldn't want him to cry. It's okay, Tim just has amnesia. Things will get better, Bruce will fix his boyfriend's scrambled brain parts and they can laugh it off later. He can't cry because he'll wake up Tim and make him feel bad when it's not either of their faults.

He won't cry. He blinks back the tears threatening to spill anyway.

> [JLA Watchtower, 22,300 miles above Earth]

"Batman."

"Superman."

Silence.

"... are you going to tell me why Superboy and Red Robin are at the Manor?"

Clark can't discern the expression behind the cowl (lead-lined because Bruce is a perceptive tactician that leaves no weakness when he finds a hole in his armor) but the scowl directed at him is all real. Something has happened and Bruce - Batman pulled his pal Superman aside after a JLA meeting at the Watchtower just to scowl for it.

Which is usually Bat-language for 'Things aren't adding up and I'm beginning to question everything I know about said things'.

Clark doesn't mention that Tim avoids Gotham and the Manor like the plague these days since after Bruce had 'died' and the genius third (read : former) bird wonder had brought his mentor back from multi-dimensional hell. He also doesn't reprimand the other for not speaking about this sooner ; he should have known, Conner was his responsibility afterall, however, when Ma had called him saying Tim and Conner had to leave suddenly from the farm to Gotham, well, he thought the worst at first. It seems the Bat and Super were both having trouble keeping their respective proteges close and in communication.

"There's been a... complication."

"Complication?"

Bruce's scowl, if possible, goes darker. "Red Robin isn't Red Robin."

Clark blinks patiently. _What does that even mean?_ "Care to explain to me what that exactly means?" He can actually make out the frustrated lines along and around Bruce's mouth. _Old man_ , he thinks fondly.

"I ran tests when he was brought back to me. Superboy informed me he had woken up with what appeared to be amnesia."

"So he lost his memories?"

A grunt. "That was my first theory. Trauma from an old injury or mental regression from stress."

"Your tone suggests that's not the case."

"How observant of you."

"I am a reporter for a living."

He gets a two second twitch of the mouth, but no smile. "Red Robin has his spleen."

And Clark... is not sure how that is possible. "His spleen? He lost his spleen."

"Fighting the Council of Spiders," Bruce confirms grimly. It is a sour topic made worse when a little birdie hadn't immediately fessed up to the missing body part. Clark and Bruce both had a shock when x-ray vision revealed no spleen in Tim's body and sepsis minutes away after a rough battle against a Lex Luthor and Vandal Savage team up. He and Conner had a shouting match over that secret and the Teen Titans all went under a supervising web for awhile until Dick had pointed out that trust needed to be rebuilt and treating the team like unruly children would not be anything, but counterproductive.

_Tim had been so pale._ Clark nearly shudders at the memory.

"Is there something I'm missing here? How is that possible?"

"Spleen transplants do happen. However, it is unlikely for Red Robin considering he has no blood siblings to do this. I looked and there has been no medical record of surgery for any of his aliases. If he had one done there is either no documentation of it or..."

"Or?"

Bruce sends him a severe look. "He isn't from here."

It's Clark's turn grimace. "Alternate universe? You don't think he's an evil counterpart, do you?"

"Honestly, no. Unless he is a good actor and incredible at lying. His sincerity, however, tells me otherwise."

"So what? How did a different Red Robin pop up?"

"That's why I'm talking to you." Clark crosses his arms, his you-have-my-full-attention face on. "I need resources beyond my usual... equipment. Preferably anyone that has ties to time travel or able to manipulate dimensional rifts."

"Raven," Clark immediately lists off. "Herald. Technically Booster Gold."

"No Booster Gold," Bruce growls out quickly.

Clark chuckles. "We may not have a choice. Our options are limited. Are you sure about this?" A dumb question, the Batman does his research, suspicions confirmed if he was willing to ask Superman for help.

A grunt and a deep frown. "I'm certain. The question is what to do with the Red Robin we have now."

> [Wayne Manor, Gotham]

Conner and Tim are playing video games in one of the open rooms in the Manor dubbed the 'Hang Out Room', the former had told the latter. They've already gone a few rounds of Mortal Kombat when Jason, Dick and Damian reappear. The youngest's eyes light up at the sight of the game on screen, obviously interested in kicking everyone's butt in VS mode. Tim gives up his controller willingly, held out like a peace offering. Damian takes his place and Tim stands to join Jason on one of the couches while Dick takes the floor with the two players, talking animatedly with encouragement for his young brother. Jason is slouching lazily, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, eyes half-mast when Tim sits down.

"Tired?"

Eyes sharpen at his question. "When is one o’ us not tired?"

Tim blinks, confused, isn't sure what he means. "Well, I mean, I took a nap today."

Jason stares at him, scrutinizing. It's not the kind Tim is used to, not the kind he expects. It makes him uneasy, seized up as if prey to a predator that's deciding whether or not the thrill of the chase is worth the meal. "The fuck is wrong wit' ya today?"

"Wrong with... You're swearing a lot today." Tim counters in a huff.

Jason laughs at that, full and loud like Tim remembers, comforts him for the moment. "Yer somethin' else, Timbo."

Tim's nose wrinkles at that. "What kind of nickname is that?"

He gets another laugh and smirk. "The one I chose. Deal with it. I'ma never call ya anythin' else ever again now."

"Ugh!" Tim flops back, crosses his arms, can feel the sleeve of Jason's jacket pressing against the back of his head. "You're awful."

"Yeah, yeah. Dun' I know it. A real fuckin' stinker."

Tim laughs at that, lifting his chin to smile up into Jason's face. "You hear from Bruce today? When is he coming back?"

A shrug. "Dun' know. Heard he had a meeting with the bigwigs up in space."

"The Justice League?"

"Yeah, them."

"What about?"

"Takin' a poll on who the hottest alien is this month? Sales on the latest pin up calendar? Findin' new ways to publicly shame supervillains? How the shit should I know?"

Tim found the attitude... annoying, and the cursing. "Do you have to swear so much?"

"Fuck yes, I do."

Tim pouts. "Am I really going to have to start up another swear jar?"

"Swear jar? Fuck that. Ya ain't gettin' any of my money, ya gold digger."

A dark look crosses over Tim's face, anger and hurt settling in equal amounts to form his expression. "Don't call me that!"

"What?" Tone taunting, challenging. "Gold digger?"

An explosion. "Is this seriously how you treat me here? In this universe?" Tim stands, rounding on the other sharing the couch like his surname's origin, like a Drake, a dragon, breathing the next words out like hot fire. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Silence. Tim gradually notices that everyone in the room is currently staring at him with astonished, dumbfounded faces. Conner’s is leaning more towards concerned and protective, turned halfway and looking like he’s going to get up and intervene. Then Tim does something he's not particularly proud of : he starts crying and bolts out of the room, up the stairs and to the room that's supposed to be his.

Through his bleary vision he realizes that this room, his room, doesn't look that lived in as he’d originally thought, cleaned, but obviously untouched in plenty of places. _When was the last time other me was ever here?_ It guts him, this whole experience is wrong and awful. He really wants to go home, to his Jason, the one that defended him against allegations of gold digging from Damian when he was first introduced to the Wayne family, the one who moved all the way to Japan with him, the one who cared about his health, the one who didn't complain if he hogged the blankets or forgot to fold laundry.

Tim falls onto the bed he'd been napping in with Conner earlier. He rolls himself into the blanket, trying to shield himself from the pain in his chest. He ends up with his nose mushed in the pillow Conner's head had been resting on, smelling of earth and ozone. _How strange a scent._

Crying silently, Tim eventually finds sleep again. He doesn't wake when Alfred checks on him nor when a warm hand brushes back his hair and lips kiss his forehead. For some reason he doesn't dream.

\---

When he wakes it is to soft voices talking somewhere in the room, too low to distinguish words or he's just too sleepy and warm to care. There's a warm hand petting his hair back in gentle strokes, makes him sigh happily. As a few minutes pass, he doesn't open his eyes, but becomes more aware of his surroundings. The voices that are talking become clearer the more aware he becomes.

"Maybe you're right."

"I know I'm right," says Bruce's voice, but Tim doesn't recognize the first.

"How humble."

A grunt. Then," We still don't know anything permanent."

"Until someone is available we'll have to make do. He doesn't seem evil or anything. Just very, and don't take offense, human."

"He is human," Conner's voice says matter-of-factly above Tim, the owner of the hand petting him softly.

"I know," the unknown voice continues, Tim can hear a smile in that tone. "What I mean is he isn't like the Tim Drake we know. He doesn't seem like a Teen Titan or Red Robin. He's more like a civilian, at least the way he's been acting from what you've told me."

"Yeah... I guess you're right. He doesn't have that Bat-vibe going on."

Another grunt of displeasure from the infamous Bruce Wayne, how articulate.

"I'm not evil," Tim mutters. No one seems surprised that he's awake because when he opens his eyes, all three are looking at him nonchalantly.

"You feel okay?"

Tim locks gazes with Conner. "... sleepy."

"After effects of the medicine we had you on when you were in the cave. You might have trouble being awake for long periods of time for the next twenty-four hours." Bruce's informative tone redirects his attention.

"Bruce! Bruce I -" He gets a little dizzy sitting up so fast, has Conner concerned enough to place two steadying hands on his shoulders.

"Easy, babe."

"Bruce -"

"Easy," Bruce parrots Conner, also laying a hand on Tim's arm to keep him sitting and steady. "You're getting too worked up. You're making yourself dizzy."

"But Bruce, I know what happened. I understand how I got here." At Bruce's raised brow, Tim relents to sitting back against plushed pillows ( _thanks, Conner_ ) and takes a deep breath. "The multiverse, Bruce. I've been transferred here through the multiverse."

The slow nod is not what he's expecting. "Okay, Tim. I'll look into it. For now I want you to rest. Conner will be here while Clark and I shift through other sources."

Tim recognizes the name, that the other man is Superman. _Cool._ "But -"

"Master Tim," Alfred speaks as he enters the room," I believe Master Bruce is giving sage advice you would be best to follow. Before that, however, I have Master Jason here who wishes to speak to you."

Jason then sheepishly enters, glancing at Alfred who is sporting his ‘ _do not test me, sir_ ’ face on. Tim is immediately unhappy, reminded of what drove him to take his impromptu nap in the first place. "Hey, Timbo," Jason clears his throat while pointedly only meeting Tim's gaze. "I'm sorry 'bout earlier. I didn't mean to, uh, ya know..." A sharp look from Alfred prompts his continuation. "Right. I didn't mean to make ya cry."

"You made Tim cry?" Conner's voice is pitched low and a glance shows his eyes are a scary shade of red. "I thought you said you weren't going to hurt him anymore? What happened to that?"

"Lookit, I didn't mean to, fly boy. I was jokin' and he took it too seriously."

"Jason," Bruce is now the one reprimanding. He and Clark don't appear pleased with this new information.

"I'm apologizin'!"

"That is quite enough, Master Jason. I am sure Master Tim appreciates your apology. He needs rest now." At this the butler locks eyes with Tim. "I will be up with lunch momentarily. I assume club sandwiches will do?"

"And green tea, please?"

Alfred's smile (and he looks so much younger than Tim remembers, less wrinkles, no stoop, head held high) is soft. "Of course, Master Tim."

He and Jason leave, the interaction deemed over.

Tim breathes easier after that, noticing how sincere Jason had been when speaking moments before. However, Clark and Bruce are still frowning and Conner's red haze hasn't disappeared from his eyes yet. "That was nice of him," he nervously breaks the silence.

Conner huffs and flops down next to Tim on the bed. "If being a jerk is considered nice."

"Kon," Clark's smile comes back while speaking to his (cousin? son? what was Superboy to Superman?) fellow Kryptonian. "Bruce and I are going to do some scouting for more information on Tim's... predicament."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll be fine. I like babysitting. Does it have to be here though? I miss Ma."

Tim finds the strength to hit Conner with a pillow for that comment, only eliciting laughter in response from the other. Tim rolls his eyes. "Do you believe me? About the universe hopping?"

"I will look into it. As soon as we have evidence, we can make a plan of what to do." Bruce states it with reassurance, trying to appease Tim for now.

Tim nods and sighs. "So I just, what? Sit here?"

"With me. We can cuddle and Alfred said he's bringing sandwiches. Yummy sandwiches."

Tim purses his lips, but doesn't say anything. He wants Jason, **his** Jason, but he doesn't want to hurt Conner's feelings anymore than he has (especially after Superboy has been so nice to him) so Tim remains silent. Instead he nods and resigns to being kept here for the time being.

"It's for the best, Tim." Bruce is quick to reassure with a small smile. "You could use the break and rest."

So Tim is left with Conner, alone, again. It's oddly pleasant considering Tim still feels awkward about everything. Conner acts like they are a couple, which is awkward, and makes him laugh, which is nice, and the two get along surprisingly well. _Way to go, other me. You picked a good egg._

They're watching some f-listed movie on one of the laptops lying around the room (Conner knew the password) and trading commentary back and forth. Tim is in near tears at the absurdity of the plotline and special effects, if either can be considered as such. "That monster was something straight out of the X-Files, what a rip off!"

"And that line about mind melding? Star Trek. It sounded super weird and out of the blue. And why was there a monkey?"

"No idea." Tim wipes his eyes, leans back into the pillows next to Conner who snorts at the psychedelic filter currently on screen. "I'm glad I let you pick the movie."

"We have a list, remember?"

Tim avoids answering by finishing the last of the club sandwiches Alfred had kindly made for them. He counters with a question of his own. "Is this what you and your Tim do together? Watch terrible movies and laugh?"

Conner looks at him perplexed before taking on a teasing grin. "Sometimes. Sometimes we just say that's what we're gonna do and make out a lot."

Tim swallows, turns his head back to the laptop. "I'm sure you do."

"He's a good kisser," the other keeps talking, unhindered. "His hair is soft and fun to comb through. He gets all fuzzy and cute when he gets really into it. Such a cuddle bug too."

Tim pouts, blushing. Jason always teased him for the same thing. "Shut up."

Conner laughs. "You asked for it."

"Did not."

"Did too."

Tim huffs and playfully shoves at the other boy's shoulder, although Conner doesn't move an inch ; kryptonian strength and all. "I said shut up, jerk."

"Well why don't you," Conner's voice has dropped low, leaning into Tim some," make me."

And Tim has the startling need to kiss him, to shut him up the only way he knows how, with lips and hot kisses, the same thing he's done to Jason countless times -

The name of his boyfriend makes Tim rear back and away from Conner's face inching closer, smile smug. He can't, he won't, and immediately feels hot shame coursing through his veins at the realization that he almost had, might've if he hadn't caught his traitorous thoughts and body in time.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" Now Conner's smile is irritating and dangerous, can't be trusted.

"Doing that!"

"Doing what," is drawled back at Tim, unconcerned.

"I'm not your boyfriend, stop flirting with me."

Conner's face falls, but Tim holds himself firm (even if that hurt puppy face makes him feel all kinds of things). "Man, this sucks. We can't even make out?"

"No!"

The other boy pouts and flops back onto the bed with a huff. "I can't wait until we get this fixed. I might actually explode if I can't kiss you."

Tim is... honestly flattered and flustered and _please god give me strength._

\---

That night he's allowed back in the cave, looking around in admiration because it never gets old although he's been here more than once before. He stops short when he sees Jason standing in an uniform he is unfamiliar with. The Red Robin suit Jason used to wear when a vigilante after hanging up the Robin mantle is neatly placed in a display case, untouched. He's not surprised to see this universe's Jason still superheroing it out, but the costume change is baffling to Tim.

"How come you hung up the Red Robin suit?"

He's got Jason to himself right now, the others hoving by the batcomputer and Conner (Kon is too intimate to say, a nickname he doesn't feel he's earned) went with Clark to stop a small crisis over in Metropolis together. The younger kryptonian (only half apparently, who knew?) had been hesitant to leave him, yet after some insistence he'd floated away with a sad wave and a promise of returning as soon as possible.

"... it's yers now."

"Mine?" He blinks up at Jason, curious of the red bowl-shaped helmet held in one of those gloved hands. "Why would I take it?"

Jason gives him a patronizing look. "Yer Red Robin."

And that is a crazy thought - him being a vigilante? _Holy smokes! Okay, okay, play it cool._ "That's the coolest thing I now know about this universe."

"Todd, we are leaving."

Damian breaks up their conversation and Tim watches Jason place on the helmet, making him look more robotic than human. "I'm comin'," a metal static voice speaks out of it and, woah, Tim might actually faint from the rush of attraction that flows through him at the moment. His face must be almost as red as the helmet (his pale skin makes blushing that much more obvious, he knows) as Jason stands there regarding him (it's hard to know if he really is looking with his expression hidden by the headgear) in silence.

Tim bites his lip, releasing it once he's found some words to spit out. "Please be safe." The same words he'd used on his Jason when the vigilante career was still a thing, lying awake in the middle of the night with worry.

He expects a snort and rebuttal from their previous interactions. Instead he gets a ruffle of the hair and a robot's voice saying," Thanks, kid."

Then Jason is leaving him standing there crushing like a school boy. He hears Dick call him the 'Red Hood' before they're out of the cave for patrol. Tim goes up to the kitchen upon Alfred's prompting, sharing a quiet dinner of two after helping feed Damian's strange assortment of pets (what was Goliath even?) and they get to talking.

"How are you feeling, Master Tim?"

"Good. Your cooking could revive the dead."

"I would hope not that well. Dealing with Gotham's villains is hard enough for everyone without the addition of the undead."

"Zombies would make it interesting. You have to admit."

"If you say so, Master Tim." It's said with a deadpan tone, but Alfred has this twinkle in his eye that belies the elder's amusement.

When Tim is done eating the entree, Alfred dishes out a dessert of molten chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream. It's special, the way the butler places the plate infront of him and sits across from him. There's a serious look on the man's face now and Tim has seen it on occasion during his tenure under the Manor's roof and therefore Alfred's supervision.

He gets two spoonfuls of ice cream and a bite of cake in before the curtain falls.

"Master Tim, if I may, I would like to inquire with you a few questions." Direct yet polite and a question phrased more into a statement that means ' _I'm going to do what I want anyway regardless of your answer_ '.

Tim can predict the topic. "Shoot."

"I have no gun, young sir." Tim laughs before Alfred goes on with those twinkling eyes. "I would like to discuss the nature of your memories."

"I'm from a different universe. Did Bruce tell you? I figured it out earlier."

Alfred nods sagely. "He mentioned that you had a theory of why your memories are... different."

"He implied altered, didn't he?" At Alfred's raised brow, Tim continues on. "I know Bruce even if I'm not a vigilante. Jason complains about it all the time. The not listening."

"I'm afraid Master Bruce has made it a habit, yes." Alfred waits out another bite of cake. Tim takes that time to examine the other, shocked at how young Alfred looks, not terribly so, but enough to give him pause at the comparison in his mind of the Alfred he knew. There aren't as many wrinkles, skin less tight around the eyes and hands not as knobby. The Alfred he knows is a wisp of paper compared to this man, standing tall and proud in his tailored and self-ironed suit. "Master Jason also mentioned to me a few items to note."

He tenses, mind wandering to the earlier apology. "You made him apologize."

"I did not force Master Jason to do anything. I simply advised him on the matter after he sought my advice. I believed it would help smooth the tension between you both."

"I forgave him," Tim says slowly, looking down at his ice cream. "... but that isn't what you want to know, is it? He told you about other things."

"Indeed, he did." Everyone tells Alfred everything and anything he isn't told, he finds out anyway. Sometimes Tim thinks he is the real detective and Bruce is just hogging all the glory ; Batman finds out everything, but Alfred mysteriously already **knows** everything.

He sighs. "Where should we start?" Because, to be fair, there was a lot of information that carried over as different between himself and whatever this universe's Tim's life turned out to be.

"You appear confused by the state of your relationship within the family."

"I..." Tim can't look up to speak, feels too embarrassed. "You mean mainly between Jason and me."

"Jason and I," the butler dutifully corrects. "But yes, that is a good start."

"Where I come from Jason and I are together, uh, romantically. We met in college and things sort of escalated from there. I learned he was Red Robin, we decided to move to Japan once he retired and that's how it is. We visit on holidays, Bruce and Dick will hound us if we don't." He takes a moment to smile at that, the first time had been a bit of a shock for him. "Everything feels so weird here. I don't understand why things are the way they are."

“You have,” and Alfred pauses at length here,” been gone for some time, Master Tim. It is only recently that you’ve come to visit again. Things have been strained for some time and we all wish to work towards a better unity.”

Strange, but Tim shrugs it off. “Okay.”

"What of Master Conner?"

"Never met him before today." He looks up shyly, still smiling, whispering conspiratorially. "He's Superboy! That's so cool. I just met Superboy."

"And Superman, if I remember correctly from this afternoon."

"I've met Clark before. Jason surprised me for my birthday some years ago. He's very nice and he gave me an autographed picture to put on my dresser."

Alfred nods sagely. "You are aware that here you are also a vigilante, Master Tim?"

"Oh. Oh! Jason said I was Red Robin. Is that true?" After confirmation, Tim's eyes shine with excitement. "Me? A vigilante? That's so cool. I saw Jason put on a weird outfit and I asked him about the Red Robin uniform and he said I was Red Robin. I didn't believe it!"

Alfred's expression seems pinched. "Master Jason has taken up the moniker of Red Hood these days."

"Well the helmet makes sense now." Tim catches the off-tone. He purses his lips, unsure if he should poke for more information. Curiosity was a hard habit to kick. "Is something wrong, Alfred?"

"Master Tim," Alfred says with forced composure, serious eyes boring into the other's. "Have you truly forgotten why Master Jason..."

"What? He was Robin then he was Red Robin in my universe. I guess since he didn't retire he just wanted a more personal codename?"

"Master Tim... there is something you are forgetting." Alfred's sorrowful tone puts Tim on edge. The information he is about to receive is not the good kind.

Tim has never been a fan of bad news. The way Alfred is looking at him, that pensive look tells him that even the butler is unsure of whether to divulge. If he doesn’t, Tim will ask anyway, will want to know about this missing link he isn’t seeing.

"Not long after becoming Robin... Master Jason died."

It's as if the world freezes for a moment. Tim can't believe what he's hearing, is certain he misheard. He can't conjure up the imagery, it had been his worst nightmare back when he knew about the Bats and Jason was still patrolling Gotham. He'd been so afraid that one of those nights his boyfriend wouldn't be returning, the bruises wouldn't heal, the blood couldn't be scrubbed off. To hear Alfred say those two words ( _Jason died_ ) together is like a punch to the gut, pulling the air from Tim's lungs painfully.

"No... No, he's here. Alfred, Jason is alive."

"He was brought back from the dead with the use of a Lazarus Pit. Surely you remember Ra's al Ghul?"

"Damian's grandfather." Tim pales in remembrance.

He knows the tales about the Ghoul's Head, has even been kidnapped by him once for a friendly game of chess ( _to test my abilities my ass, he was flirting_ ) and has read about the Lazarus Pits with intrigue after the meeting. The Pits were rumored to be like a fountain of youth and give the possibility of bringing back the dead.

Tim can't think that way, doesn't want to imagine Jason rotting, decaying six feet under, coming back to life like a more horrendous adaptation of The Mummy, throat choked by dust, heart beating rapidly with cold fear, of broken and bloodied fingernails clawing through wood and dirt after screaming until reanimated lungs were aching raw. It’s his worst nightmare : to lose Jason completely.

“Oh god,” he hears himself saying distantly. “Oh god, Jason.”

“Calm down, Master Tim.” Alfred has crossed over to rub at his back soothingly with one hand and the other on the back of his head gently pushing, making Tim hang his head. The new position allows him to close his eyes and just breathe in deep. He recalls the other times he’s had panic attacks, how Jason would guide him through. And Jason, oh god, he wanted to be with Jason so bad. “Breathe, Master Tim. Easy and deep. In and out. In and out.”

Tim follows Alfred’s instructions instead, breath coming easier the longer he does it. Eventually he doesn’t feel as dizzy or out of body, although there is still a slight buzzing under his skin, like bees trying to escape. “Can I have some water?”

“Certainly,” says the butler, giving the other’s back a reassuring pat before venturing away. Tim stays still until he hears the clinking of glass on the table, unfolding himself so he can sip delicately at the water, no lemon like he prefers. “I’m sorry I provoked such a strong reaction out of you, Master Tim. How are you feeling now?”

“I… I don’t know. Not going to pass out, but…”

“You truly don’t remember?”

“No, no. I would know - not my Jason. My Jason never died.” He cups the glass in both hands, staring down into the clear liquid like it holds the secrets of the multiverse, like it’ll explain how any reality would unfairly kill Jason Todd-Wayne.

“I see,” the butler says quietly, sighing. “I wish it were only true here.”

“Me too,” Tim mutters. He feels tears prickle at his eyes, unshed. “Me too.”

> [Metropolis City, New York]

All has gone quiet in the bright city, night has fallen and all Kon wants to do is get back to Tim. Helping Superman is fine, they’ve been working through some of the strain of their relationship, but right now he has other priorities to focus on. Clark smiles at him like he knows. It’s probably written on his face, honestly.

“You’re ready to run back, I see.”

Kon can’t even fake sheepishness. He’s impatient, ready to bolt, but Clark’s large hand landing on his shoulder makes him stop. “Is there something else to do?”

“I thought maybe we could talk.”

Floating in midair and talking, huh. Kon crosses his arms and tries not to roll his eyes. He could easily refuse, however, he’d promised Tim he’d give the big guy a chance and he did want things to become less strained if only to make things less awkward. _Being a clone is hard._

“Talk about what?”

“Tim.”

And that doesn’t bode well. Kon bristles before saying,” He’s fine. Whatever is happening, it’ll get fixed. I really should get back to him.”

“There’s a theory,” Clark keeps talking, obviously isn’t going to just let Kon slide off easy this time,” that Tim might be from our universe.”

“What?” Impossible, Kon woke up with his boyfriend. He went to bed with his boyfriend that night prior. Whatever was going on, it’s still Tim.

“It’s a working theory,” Clark amends. “But from what Tim has said it’s become a real possibility.”

“That can’t be. Tim went to bed with me and he woke up weird. I would know if he wasn’t Tim.”

Clark gets that patient look Kon hates, the one that tries not to be patronizing. “I didn’t say it’s not Tim, just not the Tim of our universe.”

“So what? You think he just disappeared?”

“Displacement in the universe has happened,” Clark points out. “Batman went through it. Booster Gold is a time traveller. We know people who cross multidimensional planes.”

Kon doesn’t want to hear it. “I don’t believe it.”

Clark expected as much. Bruce isn’t even sure if it’s the truth yet. He sighs,” Spend the night with Lois and I at least. Give him some space and you can run back in the morning.”

The skeptic look he gets is also borderlined by annoyance. Tim had appeared he wanted some space and hovering usually made him cranky. Lois would also be upset and have his backside if he didn’t take the chance to visit while in the city and breakfast in the morning sounded nice. “Sleeping on the couch sucks,” he grumbles.

“I bought an air mattress.”

Kon blinks, surprised and oddly moved. “For me?”

“For you. Lois expects you to visit more often.”

Well, isn’t that just foreboding.

> [Wayne Manor, Gotham City]

Early evening the next day finds Tim in the library reading through Hemingway and Asimov respectively, half the book’s lines practically memorized from childhood. He’s reaching for his cup of tea when he hears a hushed conversation coming into the library. Tim is in an area partially covered by a wall, a little alcove of sorts. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but Tim’s curiosity has always been a weak point ; he can already tell it’s Dick and Jason speaking meaning he really wants to know what they’re talking about anyway.

“You nearly cut my nose off.”

“Hey, don’t lookit me like that, I didn’t literally stab ya this time.”

“... you said that last part without hesitation implying there might be a time you do.”

“Well, it’s the truth, Dickie. Gotta keep my options open.”

Tim places a hand over his mouth, smiling. This he is used to, the constant banter between the two brothers. It’s never failed to make him smile, but he also feels a twinge of jealousy ; he’d always wanted a brother or sister, some sibling to curb the loneliness of his childhood because having absent parents can do that to a child.

“What are we going to do about Bruce?” He hears Dick ask.

“Punch him in the dick.”

“Hey!”

“Not ya, idiot.”

“Not better.”

“What do ya want me to say?” Tone angrier now, frustrated. “I have no idea if what Timbo said is true and Bruce won’t come off his high horse to talk ‘bout it really. If it’s a excuse to keep him home bound then findin’ the truth is gonna take a backseat.”

Tim is confused, rightfully so. Why would there need to be an excuse to come to the Manor? Bruce hadn’t seemed upset at his arrival, if anything everyone seemed relieved to see him - except Damian, of course.

“What if Tim really just lost his memories and that’s just it.”

“It ain’t just it,” Jason huffs, footsteps coming closer. “He said all that shit, remember? ‘Bout movin’ to Japan. ‘Bout…”

“Being his boyfriend?” There’s a snicker.

“Shut up. This is weird enough without yer brand o’ stupid.”

“I take high offense to that. I’m humorous.”

“Humorously bad at jokes.”

“The thing is,” Dick veers back to the topic at hand,” I think Bruce believes you about Timmy not being our Timmy. He just hasn’t found the proof yet.”

Jason is huffing when he says,” Doesn’t look like he is lookin’ into it. It looks like Timbo is a princess locked in a tower. I’m surprised fly boy is okay with all o’ this.”

“I heard he asked Clark for help. I think he’s keepin’ things on the down low for Tim and Conner’s sake. Doesn’t want to scare either of them off.”

“Still think he’s got his head up his ass.”

Dick is cut off from saying anything in reply when the two come close enough that Tim is visible… visibly watching two grown men talk about him. There must be something vulnerable in his expression because Dick’s softens immediately. “Hey, Timmy. You okay?”

He purses his lips, sniffs and looks down at his book. “If you don’t want me here you can just say so.”

“Babybird -”

“I’ll go to my parents.” He dreads saying it, but there isn’t much of a choice right now until things mold back into the way they should. Bruce will come around, he’ll find out what to do when he has time, Tim just has to be patient, has to hold on.

Dick and Jason share a panicked look. “Woah there, Timmy. Let’s take a second here, no one is telling you to leave.”

“I know I’m being an inconvenience and I’m making people uncomfortable.”

“Tim ya can’t -”

“Can’t what? I don’t see an alternative right now, Jason.” There’s a pang in his chest weighted down more by the new knowledge Alfred has bestowed upon him. Tim doesn’t want to hurt Jason anymore than he’s already been. “I’ll go and -”

“Ya need to listen, Tim.” Jason cuts in, kneels infront of where he’s sitting and the serious tone and hard set of eyes brings forth concern. What is Jason about to tell him? “Yer parents… they aren’t - they aren’t alive anymore.”

Tim feels his world spiraling into a hazy blur of his current surroundings. _My parents are dead?_ He can’t breathe and knows he’s due for a second panic attack today. His eyes can just make out the title of the book clutched tightly in his white-knuckled hands. _The Ugly Little Boy_ used to be his favorite as a child, his father would read to him sometimes before trips, out of guilt or love or both. Tim doesn’t realize he’s tilting until Jason is catching him, but he still feels like he’s falling down into a black hole. He feels the tears running down his cheeks, such a cry baby since he met Jason and opened up about his wounds, doesn’t remember how to hide them as easily as he did when he was an eight year old boy starving for affection.

_My parents are dead._

\---

Conner shakily kisses the temple of his boyfriend. He shouldn’t have left, he blames himself for this whole thing. All he wants is his boyfriend back, their memories, their promises and the ability to move on from whatever is so cruelly happening.

“It’ll be alright,” Clark says in reassurance, placing a hand on the younger’s shoulder.

Conner wants to snap at him, but doesn’t have the energy. He feels so defeated to the point that it hurts down to the bones and for someone half-invulnerable it means a lot that it can affect him so much. “I’m so tired of this. So tired of not having… having Tim. Who is he right now? It looks like Tim and sounds like Tim, but it isn’t Tim.”

“It’s Tim. Possibly from another Earth, parallel or other. But it is Tim just…”

“Not my Tim. It really isn’t my Tim?”

Clark shakes his head in answer. His expression is sympathetic and somber, can’t imagine the pain Conner is going through. “I’m afraid so.”

“How can we be sure?”

“I don’t know. Bruce and I are pulling resources, trying to figure out every angle. We’ll find answers soon just hang in there.”

And that was all the comfort Clark could try to provide. In reality, he and Bruce hadn’t come any closer to solving the mystery of Tim Drake. Evidence pointed to a switch : the reappearance of a spleen the most damning, Tim’s memories and recounting events, the emotional responses towards what should have been familiar faces. If, and most probable, this Tim has somehow been swapped with their Tim Drake then the source or reason is unknown. Bruce has been in contact with several magic users and the couple of dimension travelers they know. The main concern is setting things straight, but without a pinpointed origin no one knows where to start in finding and enacting a solution.

Poor Conner is just caught in the crossfire.

“Maybe it’ll be better if we let Tim be with his family.”

“No,” Kon is quick to deny. “I’m not leaving him here alone, I never should have. I know Tim doesn’t want to be here and I should have known it would blow up like this.”

Clark decides not to comment on that. It isn’t exactly a secret that Tim is still having trouble coming back fully to the Bats after losing his role as Robin and Bruce’s limited time ‘death’. Conner has been fiercely protective of Tim since then, extremely supportive of space away from Gotham and skeptical of any of the Bats asking after the former Robin.

Clark sighs. No one can say he didn’t try.

\---

“Sir.”

Alfred watches the man he thinks of as a son analyze the boy he thinks of as a grandson’s blood sample. What is going on with Tim has become apparent, but he can see the denial in Bruce’s actions ; not wanting to believe they’ve slipped up so easily.

“What is it, Alfred?” Bruce doesn’t even look up from the microscope. It doesn’t bother the old butler anymore, he’s used to the antics of the man who dresses as a bat.

“It’s about Master Tim.”

“I’m working on it,” grunted in answer.

It’s not enough for the butler. “It isn’t him, sir. He isn’t the Master Tim we know.” That at least gets Bruce to look up to Alfred’s raised brow. “I’m afraid those tests will yield nothing.”

“Elaborate.” At Alfred’s scolding look, Bruce adds,” Please.”

“I had a talk with Master Tim. He remembers things quite differently than he used to.”

“Altered memories. I haven’t concluded the results of the brain scans yet.”

“Master Bruce,” is the patient tone sighed out,” I believe you may be exerting your habit of selective hearing.”

“The results aren’t in yet Alfred.”

Sensing this is going nowhere, the butler drops a bombshell. “He didn’t remember Master Jason’s death or his parents.” The silence from Bruce isn’t new, the hard expression of guilt isn’t either. “I’m worried.”

Bruce sighs, throwing down the facade. His face is lined with weary contemplation. “I know. We all are.”

> [Titans Tower, New York City]

“So, what, he’s forgotten all of us?”

Conner sighs through the computer speakers, expression sullen on the screen. Bart is half jealous his friend is chilling back with his other friend and half concerned about the situation. It was bizarre the story he was told, of Tim’s failing memories and beliefs. It explained the unanswered text messages, meant he hadn’t annoyed Tim to the point of tuning him out. Still everything was clearly not okay. If Tim couldn’t even remember who Kon was, his own boyfriend, then something was happening that needed attention.

“I don’t know. Maybe? I have no clue what’s happening, dude.”

Bart taps a finger to his chin. “I could come over, hang out a bit. The Tower is lonely without you guys and Gar keeps making me watch reruns of Grey’s Anatomy. I’m so bored, dude.”

“Well, if you come over at least we can watch Twilight Zone or something.”

“Exactly. It can be like a sleep over.”

“That sounds so… childish.”

“You’re childish.”

Kon rolls his eyes. “Not helping your case, Bart.”

The speedster smiles wide, batting his eyelashes. “You love me for my humor.” A snort. “You love me for my good looks?”

“I love you for your ability to get your butt here quick - and bring snacks.”

“Hey, before you go, you wanna talk to Cassie?”

Kon scratches the back of his neck. “... yeah. You mind?”

“Nope. Give me a second - seeyousoondude!”

Bart zooms out of view, leaving Conner to stand there awkwardly for a moment. It gives him time to collect his thoughts when Cassie finally comes on screen to take his friend’s place. Her smile is small, a weariness there in the lines around her mouth. “I hear you aren’t coming back anytime soon.”

“No,” and the way Kon says it indicates he’s not happy with the decision, but is playing along for civility’s sake. “Not until we fix Tim.”

“You make it sound like he’s broken.”

Kon’s lower lip does a small wobble. Those words don’t feel that far from the truth. Cassie must see the devastation on his face because she chooses to say,” I’m sorry. I wish there was more I could do for you both… Maybe bring him to the Tower? It could help jog some memories or at least give you two some time away from you know who.”

The Bats is the unspoken implication.

“Maybe,” Kon breaks off with a sigh. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll, uh, talk to Tim about it when he wakes up.”

“Wakes up?”

“He’s sleeping right now.” At Cassie’s imploring look, he groans. “I’ll talk to him, Cassie. Let me work on one thing at a time here.”

Cassie smiles in sympathy. She misses them, Kon knows. He misses the team too, misses the way things used to be. Misses Tim the way he used to know.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Kon lets out another sigh, feeling bad.

“It’s okay. I get it. It’s hard watching someone you love be hurt and being able to do nothing. The team is here for the both of you when you’re ready.”

He nods, scratching the back of his head while trying to think of something to say. Tim is still asleep, hasn’t moved for the last hour. Bruce is talking about putting him back down in the cave for more tests, Alfred wants to put him on an IV again, but it isn’t sepsis because Tim suddenly has a spleen again and Kon can’t deal with so many changes at once. “Right,” he settles on, can’t think of anything more productive to say. “See you when I do.”

Cassie gives a small little wave, a sad smile and the connection ends.

Bart isn’t far away, arms crossed and brow raised. “Told you it was bad.”

“There isn’t anything we can do for them except be supportive. Although,” she sends the speedster a pointed look,” I’m sure you’re going to see them either way.”

“Nu-uh, you don’t get to guilt me just because I have the bestfriend card.”

Cassie shakes her fist at him playfully, watches as he puts up both hands in a pleading gesture she is tempted to ignore. “Just because I’m the ex-girlfriend doesn’t mean you can make fun of me.”

“I’mnotmakingfunofyouIswear!”

“If you go, try not to make things more stressful. And try to convince them both to at least stop by.”

Bart blinks, lips pursed. “You think that’d be good?”

“Possibly. We know if Tim was in his right mind he wouldn’t want to be over there.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

A smile. “That’s all I can ask.”

> [Wayne Manor, Gotham]

Tim blinks blearily, waking up from his impromptu nap. To his surprise, it isn’t Kon sitting on the edge of the bed he’s laid upon, but Jason. He manages to sit up, drawing the attention of guilty eyes. “Glad to see ya up, babybird.”

“Jay,” his voice is hoarse as he speaks.

“Wait a minute. I got ya water.” Jason gets up and grabs a glass filled with clear liquid, hands it over without looking him in the eye before sitting back down.

There is silence as Tim takes a few gulps, wetting his dry throat. In that time the events that happened flood back into the forefront of his rebooted brain. Devastation tightens his grip on the glass, peering down into it, the water a horrible slosh that mimics the feeling in his stomach right about now. He isn’t sure what to do.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that ya…” Jason trails off and shakes his head. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Tim swallows hard. Tears are starting to form, are starting to slide down his cheeks in wet, salty trails. A sob finally breaks passed his quivering lips and it’s like a waterfall of sadness crashing down on his body, stealing his breath and thoughts, pushing him to mourn the loss of parents that aren’t technically his to cry over. _Did he cry? Did he cry when he knew they were gone forever this time?_ Warmth embraces him and through blurry vision he can make out Jason’s jacket and shirt, burying his head into a familiar chest and let’s himself shake apart.

It’s surreal. The idea that his parents, Jack and Janet Drake, are dead is unfathomable to him. He hasn’t talked to them in a couple of years, but they still call, still ask about him through social gatherings where Bruce Wayne attends. Between learning that Jason had died and was resurrected to his own parents now gone, Tim feels like he’s losing his mind.

Eventually he pulls back from Jason’s embrace, wiping at his face with a sleeve while trying not to be embarrassed by the snot. He’s handed back the glass he’d almost dropped on the bed, coughs then takes a sip. A hand is on his back, solid and grounding, just the way he remembers Jason always being.

“Alfred told me you died,” Tim blurts out. He has to say it, he has to.

“I did,” admitted quietly. “I came back from the dead. Didn’t know that was possible.”

“Sounds scary.” His nose is stuffy, voice garbled, but he needs to talk, needs to hear Jason’s voice. He’s looking for answers and confirmation. He’s looking for more proof that this world isn’t the one he belongs to ; not that he doesn’t already have a case full of it.

“It was. But I’m here now. I… wasn’t very kind to ya in the beginning, ya bein’ my replacement and all.” Tim wants to interject, however, this is new territory, new information about the Tim of this universe and his relationship with this Jason. He wants to know even if imagining Jason’s ordeal makes his skin crawl. “I attacked ya. I wanted to hurt ya and Bruce for my pain. But ya were there, always tryin’ to help me. I didn’t get it then how much I needed someone to believe in me.” Jason looks at him, something akin to gratitude in his eyes. “I let ya down, babybird. I do it all the time.”

“It’s okay, Jay,” Tim says without hesitation. “I know you try.”

Tim doesn’t realize it’s for something he doesn’t fully understand until the words have already left his lips. The apology isn’t really for him, Jason knows that, but he’s saying it anyway. He’s stealing the other Tim’s position in whatever confession is being made right now.

“I don’t know what ya are goin’ through right now. Gettin’ lost here, wantin’ things to go back, wantin’ to go home, that I can only guess how ya feel. But I know compassion heals all wounds, whether alive or dead. You gave me that, Timbo. I’ve never forgotten that. And I’m gonna pay ya back for it. You and the other Tim.”

And Tim wants to cry all over again.

“Jay -”

A raised hand stops him. “I know things have been bad. The Tim I know ain’t exactly feelin’ all o’ us now after everythin’ that’s happened. I get it, I really do. But ya called when things went bad and I think maybe, I dunno, I’m not tryin’ to push or nothin’. Seeing ya and talkin’ to ya has made me realize a few things. I just think maybe it’s time for him to come back for a bit, ya know? To the family.”

“Jay, I don’t…” Tim blinks, confused. Where is this coming from?

“Just talkin’ ‘bout it, thinkin’ outloud. I’m sorry about bein’ hard on ya earlier.”

Tim smiles. Apparently the other Tim and Jason have some things to work out too. It feels kind of nice being that bridge, a positive thing in the dark pit he’s been experiencing since he got here, takes away some of the pain. “Thanks, Jay. For being here.”

There’s a knock on the door and Dick pokes his head in, usual smile in place. “Is everyone playing nice?”

“Shut up,” Jason flips the other off, obviously playful.

Tim rubs at an eye, smiling down at his lap. “Yeah, we were just talking.”

The look Dick exchanges with Jason is half-accusing. Jason raises his hands in the universal surrender position of ‘ _I mean no harm_ ’. “I didn’t say nothin’ bad.”

“Of course not,” Dick nods sagely with a slyly raised eyebrow as he slips into the room and closes the door. “I was just talking to Zatanna.”

“Really? Gettin’ back together?”

“No,” Dick says defensively and slithers over to Tim’s side to sit down and gather the youngest into his arms for a warm embrace. Tim is at least used to this interaction, the back and forth, the elder’s touchy antics as he is manhandled into an octopus hold. “She said there was something strange going on and that she found a link leading to Gotham.”

“What exactly did she mean by strange?”

“There have been certain areas with high levels of magical activity that have suddenly appeared throughout the world. She’s trying to pinpoint a source, but she can’t find a reason why there are so many pop ups just appearing. She also may be able to help us with Timmy here.”

“Gotham isn’t usually a magical place,” Jason hums.

“So how can she help us?” Tim asks. He flushes a bit at the nuzzling he gets in response. “You said she could help us too.”

“With you? Maybe. I explained about your, uh, condition while we were talking. If it’s something to do with your memory, Zatanna is sure she has a method to help.”

“But it’s not my memories that’s the problem,” Tim pouts.

“Ya keep sayin’ that,” Jason cuts in.

“Because it’s true.”

“Timmy,” Dick says and nudges his nose against Tim’s temple,” is there something wrong between you and Conner? Is that what this is about?”

“I’m not from this universe,” Tim stresses. “It makes sense. Why Conner thinks he’s my boyfriend. Why I’m a vigilante. Why I woke up in Kansas instead. Why my parents are dead.”

“Why ya have a spleen,” Jason adds. Dick throws him a look, obviously not wanting to encourage this. “What? He has a point, Dickie. Maybe we are lookin’ in the wrong direction. We already talked ‘bout this. Even B said it was a possibility.”

“The magic… has hotspots, right? They could be linked - linked to me.”

“I’ll talk to Zatanna about it, okay? For now we can relax, let Bruce look things over.”

“B ain’t doin’ shit.”

“Jason,” Dick scolds.

“Let’s face the facts, Golden Boy. He thinks we’re an item, claims he never met the clone, his reactions ‘bout bein’ Robin then Red Robin, does any o’ that sound like a memory problem to ya? It ain’t no act.”

“Well, they aren’t the right memories...”

Jason rolls his eyes. “I’m startin’ to believe him. The spleen thing is real suspicious. And I’m startin’ to think ya want him to be lyin’ so it fits this plan o’ yers in gettin’ Timbo back to us.”

“I’m not lying,” Tim throws in with an exasperated tone. He doesn’t know what the two are going on about. Does Dick really believe he’s lying about this? Does Bruce?

“I’ll… bring it up with Bruce again. I promise, okay? Maybe it is a thing. For now let’s have some cuddle time. I like cuddle time.”

“That’s because your an overgrown teddy bear.”

Jason bursts into laughter,” Get ‘im good, babybird!”

“Jokes on you both. I like being a teddy bear,” Dick grins and squeezes Tim in his arms. “You can never shame me and my giving nature! I will never let it happen!”

“Ya should run while ya can, Timbo.”

“No way. He’s done enough of that,” Dick whines,” let me have my time. I’ve missed you so much. It’s been way too long since the last time you visited.”

Tim latches onto that last part curiously. “How long?”

“Uh, well, I’m not sure actually…”

“Awhile,” Jason says with a shake of the head. “Gettin’ ya back here is like pullin’ teeth. Surprised ya called me to come get ya. Surprised ya even were okay ‘bout comin’ back to the Manor to begin with. Ya gotta be another Tim based on that fact alone.”

That was… interesting to note. This Tim didn’t like visiting the Manor which was an odd discovery to make. Suddenly it appeared that he had been missing crucial puzzle pieces and cues from before, about the interactions and dynamic of the family currently.

“We don’t have to talk about that. Cuddle time is fun time,” Dick sings playfully.

\---

It’s two hours later when Dick finds time to meet with Bruce and Zatanna, Clark also making an appearance. He’s primarily happy considering the quality brother bonding he’s been able to covet for himself ; he’s missed Tim like an amputee misses a limb. Maybe it’s unfair, maybe he’s being just as guilty as Bruce by taking advantage of Tim’s failing memories. He can’t, however, shake his smile at the thought of Damian who had gravitated to them eventually, Duke who’d come for a visit too joining soon after and isn’t it just nice to know they all could have this? If Tim comes back there will be movie nights and midnight rooftop tag on patrol. There will be the happiness he’s been desperately trying to reign back in since the whole fiasco of taking up the cowl for a time.

“I’m telling you it’s here in Gotham too. Whatever this entity is, it’s been drawn here the most. I don’t know why.” Zatanna’s voice greets Dick first before the figures come into view standing in a makeshift circle.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that Batman is not in a good mood.

“Are you saying Tim’s condition could be influenced by magic?”

“It’s a possibility. The coincidence with the occurences fits.”

“You should listen to her, B,” Dick chimes in as he makes it down the stairs and meanders over. “I’m starting to suspect that’s the case too. Tim isn’t putting on an act, it doesn’t appear to be altered memories like we first thought.”

“You’re being awfully stubborn about this,” Clark comments.

“He’s always like this when it comes to magic,” Dick informs with a teasing smirk. He turns to Zatanna,” Could you read anything off Tim?”

“Don’t have to. The concentration is here.”

“But you are sure Tim is linked.”

“There are traces of it around him, I could feel it when passing by his room. But that isn’t even the strongest point.”

“Strongest point…?”

“Then where is it?” Clark asks, brow raised.

“It’s with Jason.”

“Wait, hold on -” Dick shakes his head, perplexed. “What do you mean Jason? He’s the same guy since we picked Tim up, there’s nothing wrong with him. It’s Tim we’re having the problems with.”

“But the concentration is around him. Even the energy around Tim is fading and drifting over to Jason. I saw it happen.” Zatanna speaks firmly, if a little annoyed. What is with the Bats and questioning everything she knows and does? Magic is her specialty, afterall.

“Just… Jason?”

“It is a weird leap,” Clark has to confess. “We were so focused on Tim, we hadn’t considered anyone else was involved like that.”

“But,” Dick throws in with a little laugh,” we do know that Tim is convinced he’s with Jason. That should have been our first clue, I suppose.”

Bruce has been suspiciously quiet throughout the exchange. He has his thinking face on, the one that says the gears are turning, that the information is being hard pressed and printed to be used to solve the mystery. Dick notices first, he always does, aftermath of being the man’s sidekick for years and training to be insync. This could be the turning point in what they decide to do because Bruce is the great detective, the one that can piece all the clues into an answer.

“Bruce?” Clark has noticed now too which brings Zatanna’s attention as well.

“The link is between Tim and Jason. Tim could be telling the truth.”

“The truth?” Zatanna’s voice is laced with confusion as she impatiently pushes for more of an explanation. “The truth about what?”

“About being from another universe,” Clark answers for her.

“Jason was saying the same thing. Everything points to it.” Bruce looks disappointed, as if an opportunity has been lost. To be fair, Dick is too. If Tim was, well, their Tim this could’ve been the break in what they were trying to do, getting Tim to trust that they had his back. “He’s not our Tim, B. He was telling the truth from the beginning.”

“It could still be Tim. The magic could have altered his brain.”

“And gave him back his spleen? And changed his memories to fit someone else’s life entirely? Let’s face it, we’re dealing with a switch.” Dick moves closer to his guardian, gazes at him with a sad smile. “Could have been nice to start over with him, to have an opportunity to prove we care.”

“We still can,” Bruce says with the underlying growl of Batman. “And we are. Jason hasn’t been altered by the magic,” he turns his piercing gaze onto Zatanna. “Is there any way to confirm that Jason is concentrating the magic to become a portal?”

“A portal?” Zatanna sounds surprised, but also inspired. “That… is possible. I would have to take a second look, but it is entirely possible based on the high levels I’m encountering.”

“So you believe it’s true? Bruce?”

The man looks over at Clark, then Dick and nods. It’s an action that is grave and determined, the final push towards a decision is made. They are going to find a way to get back their Tim and start over what progress they thought they were making with their missing bird.

\---

Jason is still with Tim when Kon comes back with Bart in tow. Conner doesn’t appear very happy to find the former Robin hanging out with his (not) boyfriend and the dirty look he gave Jason only solidifies the point. Sensing he wasn’t welcome, Jason gives Tim a shoulder clap and announces he’s going out.

“Ya nerds have fun,” he waves goodbye with a cheeky grin.

Tim’s attention is instantly captivated by the newcomer. “Um, hi.”

“Hey,” the ginger-haired male zips over to the bed, jumping on hard enough to bump them both up a couple of times. “Do you remember me? I’m Bart, we’re friends. Kon said I could come by and you don’t look different at all, dude. I thought you said things were different, Kon? He looks exactly the same!”

“Um,” Tim blinks and looks to Conner, unsure of what to say.

“Back off, Bart. He obviously doesn’t remember you.” A roll of the eyes, and a sigh later. “If he couldn’t remember me, why would he remember you? He met me first.”

“Because I’m his bestfriend!”

“You’re mine too. And I’m also his bestfriend.”

“Exactly. Double the bestfriend power.”

“Anyway,” Conner stresses with a smile at Tim,” this is Bart. You probably don’t remember this annoying little mouse -”

“Hey!”

“- but he’s one of our bestfriends. He’s the current Kid Flash.”

“Woah, that’s how you got over here so fast. That’s a really cool power.” Tim laughs as the newly dubbed Bart shuffles closer and steals the laptop by the other side of the bed. He watches the other’s fingers fly fast over the keys, actually amazed smoke isn’t rising from the device at the brutal sound of clacking.

“Yeah, it’s crash. Hey, remember that band I told you about? Right, no you don’t, but I do! They came out with this new album. You gotta listen to it, dude.”

Kon joins them on the bed, squeezing into Tim’s other side. “Don’t mind him stealing your stuff and then forcing you to listen to his music. It’s a regular thing.”

“My music choices are awesome and you know it.”

“You have a funny sense of what counts as music.”

“Techno is the new rock. Not everyone believes the 90s had the best music.” Bart snarks and turns on some electronic monster blaring through the computer speakers.

“90s rock **is** the best rock.” Conner huffs and shares a conspiratory smile with Tim who is watching the exchange with mild amusement.

“So Cassie wanted me to ask -”

“No.”

“What,” Bart whines, looking up from the screen. “Why not?”

“Why not what?” Tim asks, looking between them. “What are you going to ask?”

“Tim, we really shouldn’t. With everything going on...”

“Oh come on, Kon. I’m sure he’d love to see the Tower, get out of this big ol’ house for, you know, reasons.” Bart emphasizes the last part drastically.

“The Tower…? Oh,” Tim’s eyes grow wide as saucers,” Titans Tower?”

“Yeah,” Bart speaks quickly,” it’ll be fun. I can show you where we stash all the good snacks. I have this huge horde of poptarts because Miguel always steals my favorite kind.”

“He does not, you just hate sharing.” Conner sighs, dragging a hand down his face. This is obviously not the first time this topic has been brought up. “And I don’t think Tim is ready for anything like that. The whole team will be there. I don’t want to push it.”

“I can meet the Titans?”

Conner makes a strained sound the moment he sees hopeful indigo eyes staring back at him. Looking over at Bart gives him no backup, the sly smile in place pulling him further away from his original plan. “Do you really want to meet them?”

“That would be cool.”

“More than cool,” Bart interjects,” they miss you. It’s weird not having our team leader.”

“Cassie does a good job,” Conner adds in pointedly.

Bart leans in closer to Tim, whispering loudly. “But she’s no you.”

“Why don’t you want me to go?” It’s directed at Conner.

“I don’t want to stress you anymore than you have been. With everything going on it just… doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“I can handle it.”

Bart sticks out his tongue,” Yeah, he can handle it. Quit babying him.”

“You are such a brat. We should legally change your name.”

“You could,” Tim throws in to tease,” it’s only two letters you have to switch.”

“No fair! Now you’re ganging up on me,” Bart huffs. “I should have listened to Cassie and not come at all. You both are mean.”

The sound of Tim’s laughter makes Kon and Bart smile. Maybe it would be a good idea to bring Tim to Titans Tower and give him the surrounding comfort of the friends who care for him. The longer they stay in Gotham, the worse things seem to get in Conner’s opinion. Time away from the Bats is what Tim had previously wanted when he remembered Conner was his boyfriend. Maybe Conner had made the wrong decision about taking him back to the source of Tim’s troubles, maybe they should have had Raven look things over instead. As hesitant as he is about moving Tim to another location abruptly, it could be a good thing, the change in scenery, letting the others have a hand in helping Tim recover from whatever this is.

Conner shakes his head and watches Tim try to steal back the laptop, the laughter still rolling. He supposes Cassie had been right, that it would be good for them both.

\---

“Jason.”

“Dickie told me ‘bout what magic girl said.”

A helmetless Red Hood ventures closer, looking over the shoulder of Batman towards the information flowing on the Batcomputer. It’s interesting, he’ll admit, and a little funny. Being a potential portal sounded like a pretty important status upgrade.

“We are still working out the finer details,” grunted Bruce as he turned to regard his former Robin. Jason looked oddly at ease being newly magically endowed even if they couldn’t understand why or know how to use said magic or if it really changed anything at all for Jason.

Jason catches him observing. “If ya are waitin’ for a punchline, I got nothin’.”

“Not looking for one.”

“Well, ya lookin’ at me pretty hard. Am I finally startin’ to glow?”

“This isn’t a joke, Jason. We may have misplaced Tim and didn’t even know it.”

Jason sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Would look kinda bad considerin’ all the effort we’ve been puttin’ into tryin’ get him back. How pissed ya think he’s gonna be when he finds out we didn’t notice at first?”

“I should have noticed.”

“Cut the shit, B.”

“Language.”

“Alfred is startin’ to rub off on ya too much. Yer becomin’ a real grandpa.” He ignores the look he gets in response to his words. “It ain’t no one’s fault. It just happened and we’re gonna fix it and apologize… and hopefully Timbo will forgive us again.”

“Every time we get one step closer we take another ten back.”

Jason shrugs. “We’re doin’ somethin’. Right now we gotta focus on gettin’ our babybird back and stickin’ to the plan.”

“Superboy doesn’t appear to be happy with the developments.”

“Are ya finally gonna let me carry around the green shiny rock?”

“Don’t sound so hopeful,” Bruce actually sounds amused as he says this, the twitches of a smile touching the corners of his mouth. “And the answer is still no.”

“Damn.”

“Language. The point I’m trying to make is that we need to be more supportive.”

“Supportive?”

“Of Conner and Tim.”

“I was bein’ supportive. Ya were the one wit’ the problem, remember?” Jason points out, rolling his eyes. “Ya even threatened him before I could give a shovel talk.”

“Tim is still my son.”

“Adopted, yes. Like us all. Ya have a problem.”

“Alfred says the same thing.”

“Alfred is wise. So what do we do about Tim right now?”

Bruce pulls on the cowl, drifting closer to the batmobile. Soon Damian will come down to the cave and shift into his Robin costume, the two going out on night duty to strike terror into Gotham’s criminals. Red Hood would be joining them tonight to give Dick the night off and keep an eye on their apparently displaced Red Robin look-alike.

“We keep him comfortable and out of trouble like we’ve been doing.”

“How hard can that be,” Jason laughs as he hears Damian’s pitter patter on the stairs with Alfred likely in tow,” he’s under the surveillance of the Batman.”

Meanwhile Dick was on his way to Tim’s room and - found it suspiciously empty. Not good, really not good. “Bruce is going to be upset about this.”

> [Titans Tower, New York City]

“Hey Dick.” Garfield gets ten seconds to be happy about seeing his friend until he realizes that the friendly face is actually a serious one. Okay, business call time. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to Superboy.”

He raises an eyebrow, tries not to sound condescending. “Is Superboy in trouble?”

A sigh, a break of expression. “Batman is asking.”

“Oh, that’s not good.”

“Very not good. Can you get him on the line? Not Tim, just Conner.”

Garfield complies, leaving the computer console to change into a bird and fly across the next two rooms. The whole gang is hanging out and laughing, catching Tim up on stories of his time leading the team. Their friend looks at everything in wonder, has so many questions, throws around jokes without missing a beat. It’s almost like nothing has changed…

“And Miguel couldn’t sneeze without hiccuping for a week,” Bart finishes on a story.

“It was the weirdest feeling too,” Miguel snorts. “And I’ll never forget how happy I was when I could finally do one without the other. Who knew it would mean so much to me.”

Gar chooses that moment to transform back again, venturing over to crouch beside Kon’s unoccupied side and talks low enough to keep the conversation quiet. “Surprise call from big brother Nightwing. He says the big bad Batman isn’t happy.”

Kon shoots him an annoyed look. “We don’t need permission to leave. Tim doesn’t live there anymore and he isn’t a prisoner.”

Gar shrugs, he agrees. Unfortunately, that doesn’t get rid of a very stressed out Dick Grayson waiting for someone to talk to in the other room on the computer monitor.

“Please just talk to him. I’m sure they’re just worried because of everything that’s been going down.”

“Did he pull the friend code on you?”

Gar makes a face. “I don’t sell out that quick.”

Kon huffs, but he’s smiling. He begrudgingly gives up his seat to Gar and walks to meet the fate of this inevitable encounter. Dick’s face is obscured by the blue of the Nightwing mask, mouth formed in the signature Bat-disapproval line he’s had to face before. Although he probably shouldn’t, Kon comes in on the defensive.

“Something I can help you with, Nightwing?”

“You left with Tim.”

“Yeah, last I checked we didn’t need permission to come back to the Tower. He may be inactive right now, but he’s still team leader. This is still his place too.”

“He’s not,” Dick informs,” because he’s not the Tim you and I know.”

“You’re buying into that too now?” Conner’s temper starts to show, the anger slinking forth to color his tone. There was too much back and forth, too much unsure answers to what was going on. Was Tim really Tim?

“It’s the truth. We found a source of magic surrounding Tim and Jason. We think he was brought here because of it.” Dick’s explanation sounds far out there, the reasoning still unknown.

“So… he isn’t our Tim.”

“No,” Dick sighs,” he’s not. And B is adamant about keeping him under lock and key until we can figure a way to send him back home and get our Tim back.”

“He’s fine here. The team and I -”

“B wants him here.”

Kon growls. “He doesn’t get to decide that.”

“I understand you are being protective because you’re worried, but we need your cooperation right now. If anything happens we lose all leads and possibly our chance to bring Tim back from wherever he is now.”

“We can handle it here.”

A flash of frustration briefly crosses Dick’s usually patient face. “Kon…”

“He’s not your brother right now. You don’t get to push me or him around, you didn’t before either.” Putting his foot down gives Conner a small amount of satisfaction. “He stays here until a way to bring Tim back is found. We have more eyes to watch over him anyway.”

“Conner?”

Tim’s voice curiously calls out and turning around shows him having entered the room. Kon can pinpoint the exact moment he sees Dick, the scrunch of eyebrow and the nervous bite of lip. The questioning eyes search Conner’s own and he knows that trouble is afoot the moment he sees the other’s guilty expression. Walking closer allows Tim to set his sights on Dick and Conner both, licking his lips as he contemplates how to address his findings.

“What’s going on?” Tim asks.

“We found a source for your, uh, condition,” is Dick’s response rather than Conner’s. “Zatanna found traces of magic between you and Jason. We think you were brought here because of it and replaced with our Tim.”

“Magic?” Tim hasn’t had any experiences with that, although he’s heard tales from his boyfriend, the Jason of his universe. “So you believe me then?”

“We do. Sorry it took us this long to confirm it.” Dick is sheepish as he says it, smiling. It’s relieving to know that Tim has finally brought things around to the truth. They can finally begin to work on sending him back home at least.

“Is that why you called?”

“Well…”

Tim looks between Conner and Dick, sensing the atmosphere and motions with his head. “You mind, Conner?”

“Shouldn’t I also be…?”

“Please?” Tim says it sweetly, hoping to sway the outcome with a smile.

Kon sighs, knowing he can’t deny the other even if it isn’t his actual boyfriend. “Right.”

Once alone together, Tim turns to regard Dick once more. The older boy looks both relieved and stressed, something still weighing on him. He takes a seat infront of the big screen, head tilted in curiosity. “You didn’t finish your explanation.”

A sigh. “You were supposed to stay at the Manor.”

Tim was confused since Conner never told him that. “Why?”

“We just want to make sure you’re safe and available if we find a solution.”

He’s skeptical. Living with Jason has proven that suspiciousness is a Bat-trained trait. “You don’t trust me.”

Dick pauses carefully, thinking. “We don’t know you like we do our Tim. It’s nothing personal. You’re the only clue we have to getting back our Tim.”

It’s hurtful as much as it is reasonable. “So you really don’t care about what I want. I wanted to come here. I wanted to meet the team… his friends.”

“I never said that,” Dick laments. “I care about getting you home too. We all do.”

“But I’m not your Tim. I don’t mean that much to you.”

“It doesn’t matter which universe you dropped out of. You’re my brother. I’d die for you.”

And, wow, isn’t that the whole reason Tim was jealous of Jason in the beginning when they’d met? That he had brothers, had family he could talk to, that called him to come home, that cared enough to ask how he was doing and what he was up to, and if he was okay. The topic of countless arguments about why making up with Bruce was important and why avoiding his family (adopted or not) was not a year round option (unlike for Tim who had severed all ties, who had taken almost nothing with him when he vacated the Drake estate, nothing but memories that sat painfully in his chest when he gave them thought). Those words aren’t meant for him, but they mean a lot coming from universal older brother figure Dick Grayson.

Tim smiles bashfully. “Thanks, Dick.”

“Always gonna be my little brother no matter where you’re from. I’m sorry you feel like that, but I promise we’re just being cautious. We don’t know what’s going to happen, or what we have to do to send you back. I’m sure you miss home too.”

Tim did. He missed his Jason like crazy, wondered what he was doing, tried to imagine how confused he must have been too. It was a bummer they’d have to miss tea with the neighbors this weekend, the Yukimuras were kind. If Jason knew then he was trying to find a way to bring him back, probably with Bruce’s enlisted help. If the Tim from this universe was there then maybe that would make things easier. A quick switcheroo would set both their lives back to where it should be.

“I do,” is admitted.

“Then hang tight. Just don’t go anywhere else, okay? I know you’ll be safe there.”

“You just gotta convince the boss,” Tim said knowingly.

“Yeah, B isn’t happy. I have to make sure he doesn’t go all Batman and bust in there looking for a fight with Superboy.”

“I came willingly, I might add.”

“I know you did,” Dick laughs. “Just keep out of trouble. I’ll call again when we find more leads.”

“Awesome. See ya soon, I hope.”

Dick gives a mock salute and ends the transmitted call. It’s progress, at least, in the direction Tim had been pushing for some time now. The Tower is where he wants to stay, being cooped up in the Manor was starting to weigh on his mental stability. Being able to hang out with these young superheroes, catching a glimpse of this Tim’s world and the one his Jason would have had while working as Robin is enlightening and as it is heartbreaking ; some differences are light-hearted while others are not.

The only thing he hasn’t managed to do that really still matters is convincing Conner of the truth too.

_Well, even if he never believes, I know Dick and Bruce do._ That’s all he needs to get the help to go home back to Jason.

Tim ventures back to the other room where everyone is, smiling at Bart who notices him first. “Big bro checking in?”

“Yeah,” Tim admits. “Where’s Conner?”

“He, uh, went over to the training simulator. Looked like he needed to blow some steam. Hang with us for now and he’ll find you when he’s done.”

Tim feels bad. It’s obviously due to his earlier dismissal while wanting to talk with Dick one on one ; he had walked in on the threshold of an argument it seemed. He distracts himself from the gnawing guilt by hanging out with the team like before, Miguel gesticulating for him to come over and listen to a wild story about what he did away from the team last week. It’s very peaceful with everyone together (scratch the part where Conner hasn’t returned, but Tim tries not to dwell on it) and the unity between members is prominent even to a stranger.

“Rae and I went to see that movie about shrinking people,” Gar talks this time around, throwing a toothy grin over at Raven. “I don’t think I’d want to live as the size of an ant the rest of my life.”

“You’re lucky,” Miguel laughs,” you actually get a choice Mr. Shapeshifter.”

“Hey, I already told you, I ain’t changing my name to that garbage. Too cliche and overused.”

“Better than Beast Man.”

Garfield pouts, honestly put upon. “What’s wrong with Beast Man?”

Everyone laughs, even Raven who places a hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder, smile gentle and fond. The easy banter is nice to listen to, Tim finds. The atmosphere is relaxing, he doesn’t even have to really participate in conversation to feel like he’s a part of the group. He watches Gar get teased some more, his complaints of being a senior member dutifully ignored.

“So how are you, Tim?”

He blinks, surprised he’s even asked. Everyone seemed to be onboard with not bringing up the elephant in the room. “I’m okay. I’m enjoying myself.”

“How was it really?” Bart leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. There’s a contemplative shine to his usually jovial expression. “I didn’t ask earlier because I didn’t want to make things awkward. I know your memories are wacky, but the last time we checked you weren’t exactly frequently talking to any of the Bats.”

“I… I’m not?”

That earns him some concerned looks and being at the center of attention suddenly feels awful. “You don’t remember?”

He shakes his head. _Remember what?_

Raven sighs. “I don’t believe it’s wise to poke this further for now.”

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Miguel speaks with a chuckle. “One minute you’re here brooding about them all and now you’re talking to them and act like you don’t even like Kon.”

Raven sends a warning glare. Tim is highly confused by what they’re referring to, but sums it up to being something this world’s Tim has encountered and not him ; possibly what Jason was going on about earlier before he came here. Whatever it is, however, sounds serious. Despite the stand-off with Jason in the beginning, Tim was under the impression that the entirety of the Bat crew cared a lot about Tim since he woke up and was immediately swarmed. The idea that he or this other Tim wouldn’t speak to them is concerning. What is he missing?

“You know,” his thoughts are interrupted by Cassie,” we missed you.”

It’s a nice thing to say, however, Tim is acutely aware of the fact that he doesn’t belong here, that he isn’t Red Robin the team leader of the Titans. He’s just another Tim from a different place with a different life and a different boyfriend.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he settles on with a polite smile.

“You were figuring things out.” Cassie waves away the apology easily and smiles at him sweetly. She’s been very kind since his arrival, attentive too. “Now we have an our impartial judge back for movie night.”

“Yeah, it sucks when you’re not here to weigh on the odds,” Miguel complains. “Even numbers suck when we have team votes.”

“What’s wrong with movie night?” Tim asks out of curiosity.

“Only that we usually are split in half about what to watch.”

“Half and half, always! I still can’t believe Bart suggested we watch The Last Airbender.”

“You don’t get to talk after you made us watch Disaster Movie,” Bart follows up.

Miguel makes a face. “That’s real comedy, just bad comedy. That’s the part that makes it funny! The Last Airbender is just plain awful. There is no saving face with that film.”

“They’re both bad,” Raven says in a deadpan voice.

“I agree.”

“Of course you agree,” Bart teases,” she’s your girlfriend. You’re whipped.”

“I’m not whipped, I just respect and agree with her choices,” Gar retorts shrewdly.

Tim has to laugh. He remembers watching The Last Airbender with Jason when it came out and the two had walked out hardly twenty minutes in, making fun of it as they shifted their date to a burger joint three blocks away. Extra curly fries helped lighten the disappointment of that night ; Jason had even complained it wasn’t a movie they could make out to.

Speaking of boyfriends…

Tim supposed it was time to go find Conner. He’d given enough space for now and had to confront the need to apologize for earlier about the thing between him and Dick. Tim excused himself, pretending he needed the bathroom and went wandering. The Tower itself had multiple floors, Bart had eagerly given him a run down of where the elevator would take him. Beyond that, well, he had to guess where to go from there. Cassie must have known he wanted to go find Conner because she subtly held up four fingers before he turned away from the group.

Pressing the number four on the button pad was his best bet at finding the elusive Superboy. He waits with bated breath as the numbers tick off one by one, hoping he won’t have to make an embarrassing scramble to find out where to go. He rocks on his heels, ready to step forward the moment the doors open, letting him out on a pristine tiled floor. Everything is white until he spots a control room with see-through stainless glass windows looking into another room. Inside that room is Conner fighting against oddly shaped enemies and Tim is half-panicked before realizing that it’s a simulation room, watching a punch from Conner breaks apart a holographic image, not an actual person.

Tim ventures closer to the control panel, sees a dial is turned up to the halfway point signalling the difficulty level of the simulation. Obviously Conner is taking out some pent-up aggression, evident in the force behind his punches, the speed in which he dispatches a wave of oncoming faceless holograms. He decides to wait the other out, sitting in the leather chair infront of the controls. It’s… fascinating watching Conner work, the concentrated scrunch of his brow, the way his muscles flex at each movement, the darkened expression making his eyes appear to be glowing.

It’s also a dangerous thought, to be paying that much attention.

Tim breaks his own gaze to survey the construction of the place, the panels analyzing data collected by the holograms and other mechanics that weigh in on Conner’s abilities while in action. It’s an intricately designed piece of work he has to admit, awed by the amount of data pouring in and being calculated.

“Simulation end.”

It’s Conner’s voice he hears and when he looks back up it’s Conner’s eyes that are staring back at him. A door opens up a few feet from where he’s sitting and stairs pop up from the simulation floor to allow Conner’s ascent up to where he’s waiting. Tim is still a little wonderstruck at seeing Superboy in action that he doesn’t register the tense set of the other’s shoulders at first.

_Oh_ , he thinks, remembers, _this is a bit awkward._

“Sorry, were you looking for me?”

Tim can’t remember now that he’s staring at a powerhouse. Was he?

“Uh.”

Conner’s expression breaks into a half-smile, mild amusement curving his lips. He steps closer, putting a hand on the chair to lean on as he bends closer to view some of the screens. “I did better than last time. Faster too.”

“That’s cool.” _And that’s a lame thing to say, Tim, wake up that brain of yours._

Conner glances at him, smile still in place. “The others weren’t giving you trouble were they?”

“No. We were mostly making fun of Beast Boy.”

A laugh,” Usually how it goes around here. He’s the easiest to pick on.”

“Is that because he’s a senior member?”

“Did he say that?” Conner’s laugh is contagious and bright. “More like senior citizen.”

“Heard that one. Bart already made that joke.” Tim is smiling now too, but he hasn’t forgotten why he actually came here now that the tension is broken. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

“For the thing… with Dick…”

A noncommittal hum is all he gets. Conner is looking at the screens, smile faded. Tim isn’t sure what else there is to say. For some reason, Conner doesn’t have the best relationship with the Bats right now (could be because of the whole Jason thing) and suggestions from chatting with the team only minutes earlier revealed that this universe’s Tim, Conner’s actual boyfriend, might not either. In fact, there have been a lot of hints, now that he’s thinking about it, that suggests that this universe’s Tim is in a bad way. Not a comforting thought.

Finally he’s glanced at and Conner must read something on his face because the other softens. “It’s okay, really. I just… don’t like how they think you’re someone they can boss around.”

“Boss around?”

“Yeah… Dick called to tell me to bring you back. More like demanded.”

“He kind of mentioned that I shouldn’t have left.”

Conner rolls his eyes, standing up straight while looking annoyed. “That’s what I mean. After everything you think maybe they would know better. You’re not an object, you aren’t owned by them.”

“I’m not owned by you either.”

Conner stops, mouth agape. He shuts his jaw with a hard _click_ and stays silent. Tim thinks he may have crossed a line assuming something like that. Conner obviously cares a lot about Tim (his actual Tim) and has been very kind to him since he woke up here.

“No,” Conner says with a sigh,” I don’t own you. I just love you… or the you that’s supposed to be here.”

Tim’s heart squeezes hard. “So you believe me now too?”

“I think I have to. I don’t think Batman would lie about magic. He hates magic.”

His smile is grateful and amused. He still feels bad about hurting Conner’s feelings, about pushing him away. He appreciates the patience he’s been given and the kindness he’s been shown. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been difficult.”

“No, not really. You were trying to tell me. I just… didn’t want to believe it. You mean… Tim means everything to me. We’ve been through so much, especially in recent years.”

Tim shouldn’t pry, but to say he is curious is an understatement. “Oh?”

Conner’s smile is thin, compulsory. “Guess it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

“I… was suspecting something happened.”

“Yeah,” Conner shrugs. “I guess telling you won’t hurt if you wanna know.”

“Will your Tim get mad?”

“Naw, I don’t think so. He’d probably be jealous of you.”

“Jealous of me?” It’s an odd thing to think about for him. What was there to be jealous of? This Tim had an amazing boyfriend ( _I have Jason which is just as good thank you very much_ ) and a loving family (the Bats could be smothering admittedly) and, okay, he was a freaking vigilante, that’s just plain cool. “Why?”

There was a sea of things to be said so Kon takes a deep breath before the dive. “Tim became Robin after Jason died. Did you know that?”

Tim nods. Piecing the information he’s gathered together has taken most of his time spent here, but he’s mostly filled in the blanks. That other Tim had become Robin sometime after Jason had passed. That other Tim and Jason had been at odds because of this and didn’t take the steps towards a relationship. That other Tim’s parents had died. The other Tim had been adopted by Bruce Wayne following the death of Jack and Janet Drake. That other Tim at some point became Red Robin and was leading the Titans instead of hanging out in Gotham. Also other Tim had a hot boyfriend who happened to be Superboy. And now he was about to learn why other Tim was at odds with the people considered family in other Tim’s life.

“Well,” Kon continues,” Tim and Jason have gotten over that part… kinda. About two years ago Bruce sort of died, but was actually time displaced by Darkseid.”

“Sounds complicated.”

Kon laughs. “You’re telling me. Well, when Bruce was gone, everything went to shit. Dick had to become Batman and he took the Robin mantle from Tim to give to Damian.”

“Wait, hold on.” Tim has to wrap his head around that one. The way Conner is making it sound… “Are you saying Dick forced Tim to retire as Robin?”

“Pretty much without warning. Tim had already lost his parents… then Bart… and me.”

“You were dead too?”

“For a little bit, yeah.”

Tim makes a face, unsure of how to feel. “There’s a lot of dying going on around here.”

“Happens in our line of work. Anyway, Tim was having a rough way of it. He felt betrayed by Dick and Damian, the little devil just made matters worse by being a jerk. There was this whole war between former Robins about who was going to be the new Batman.”

“He wanted to be Batman?”

“Yeah,” Conner sighs,” he did. More to prove a point to Dick as payback for taking Robin away. Jason did too. It didn’t end well for anyone. Dick won so Tim made a new identity for himself.”

It suddenly makes sense. “Red Robin.”

The new identity. The reshaping of other Tim’s life.

Conner nods. There’s pain in his expression, recalling the memories with dissatisfaction. “By the time I came back, Tim had teamed up with Ra’s al Ghul of all people too. He didn’t believe that Bruce was dead, needed help finding the truth.”

“He still could have asked Dick,” Tim points out and is surprised to learn this information. _Teaming up with an enemy is for emergencies only_ , Jason had told him one time.

“No, he couldn’t. Dick thought he was crazy.”

“Ouch.”

“To be fair, Bruce was considered dead. They were all mourning. Dick thought Tim’s grief was manifesting into something unhealthy. I was still dead. Bart too. He’d lost his parents and then,” Conner’s voice takes a hard edge,” Dick took away the one thing he’d had left. It made sense Tim was going a lil crazy after all of that. Dick just thought he was in the denial stage of dealing with things.”

Tim listens. Conner isn’t exactly defending Dick and his actions, more like explaining. The other obviously doesn’t feel in favor of what happened and it makes his earlier aversions to the Bats much clearer. That protective edge is the sign of a boyfriend who wants to defend his lover.

“So he teams up with this baddie who has been obsessed with him for forever.”

“Obsessed with him?” That’s news to him.

“Yeah. Wants Tim to serve under him and…” Conner breaks off, a snarl shaping his mouth. It’s clear he is uncomfortable and angry with what he says next. “Become his.”

The implication is clear by the way it’s said. The unsettled feeling that layers itself over Tim is not welcomed. He doesn’t want to think about that for longer than he has to. His run in with Ra’s al Ghul had been brief and his Jason swiftly whisked him away and hung up the vigilante life thereafter. To think that if he’d taken a more proactive role with crime fighting would lead to something like that, well, it’s not a happy consideration.

“So they found a way to bring Bruce back, obviously or else I wouldn’t have seen the guy.”

Conner nods and the snarl is replaced by a smile, something proud. “If anyone could, it’d be Tim. He’s so freakin’ smart. And then he gave that creepy old fart a good one by blowing up his bases. Winning against the odds.”

Tim smiles at that. It sounds incredible, this other Tim sounds incredible. “Everyone must have been surprised.”

And just like that, Conner’s good mood is again dashed. “Didn’t do Tim any good. Bruce barely gave him a back pat and then everything sort of… continued without him.”

“Wait, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s what it was,” Conner shrugs. “Tim wasn’t Robin anymore. Dick went back to being Nightwing and Tim slowly stopped going back, stopped visiting. Bart and I came back and he was a mess. It was awful. Got him back into leading the Titans, made him move in with me.”

“You made him a Kansas boy?”

“He’ll always be a city boy,” Conner quips,” but he does date a farm boy. Some of my good influence was bound to rub off on him anyway.”

Tim smiles slyly. “Would he agree?”

“Probably not.”

They share a laugh. Tim appreciates being talked to, of getting to know what he doesn’t. The other Tim has a special thing here even if he’s gone through hell to get it.

“So what’s up with now? Everyone seemed happy to see me when I came over.”

Except for Damian (quietly, more subdued really) and, at first, Jason.

“They’re trying this thing…”

“What kind of thing?” Tim presses curiously.

Conner sighs as if put upon. Obviously this ‘thing’ isn’t something he completely agrees with. “They’re trying to reach back out to Tim to make up for things. After a long time they finally took the hint that stuff hadn’t been righted for Tim after the whole bring Batman back from dimensional time displacement.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

Conner huffs, crossing his arms. “You didn’t see him when I came back. I don’t know what would’ve happened if I didn’t… but I don’t like the paths that were open at the time.”

That’s… not something he expected to hear. “But if they make things right with him -”

“ **If** they do. What if they do more damage than good? What if they mess this up and it hurts Tim more? You saw the way Dick just tried to demand we go back to the Manor. Batman probably ordered it. Tim isn’t a puppet, he isn’t a soldier that comes and goes just because someone says so. He’s more than that.”

This speech sounds rehearsed, something Conner has said before and multiple times. His concern is palpable, manifested in the tense set of his shoulders, the hard frown on his lips, the scrunch of his brows. The thing that strikes Tim as odd is the word ‘soldier’. His Jason confessed to him that the first year being Robin had felt more like being inducted into the army, adopting Batman’s war on crime ; maybe this other Tim felt the same, maybe all the people who’d held the Robin mantle did.

“Does the, uh, other me want to give them a chance.”

“He didn’t at first…”

“And now?”

“Yeah, he’s come around a bit. He’s visited a little bit and is talking to them…”

“And you’re not happy about it,” Tim doesn’t fail to point out.

“It’s not that I’m not happy for him,” Conner defends as if he’s had this argument before too. “I’m just worried, okay? After everything he’s been put through, all the unfairness… I don’t want to lose Tim.”

“You think he’d…” Tim trails off, a cold shudder running through him. To think that the other Tim was pushed to such a hard brink, to the point of no return is frightening. What does that say about him?

“He’s had an issue before. When we met our possible future selves once.”

“Okay, that’s a story I want to ask about.”

Conner rolls his eyes. “It’s not a fun one. We were all… weird. Almost evil. Tim was a future Batman that killed.”

That turns something sick inside him. “Batman has killed before.”

“What?” It’s Conner’s turn to prod. “What do you mean?”

“This world’s Jason died, but mine… mine didn’t. Bruce saved him and murdered the Joker.”

“Holy shit.”

Tim nods, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture. That had been a hard pill to swallow when he’d learned Bruce was Batman, that Jason had almost died, when the Gotham Gazette and a GCPD live television conference with Commissioner Jim Gordon confirmed the psychopathic clown’s death.

“Holy shit.”

“You already said that,” Tim says wryly.

“I mean just - woah, dude. Do the others know? Does Jason know?”

Tim chews his bottom lip worriedly. The moment he’d known, the moment Alfred had told him left him spiralling and then, of course, the fact that his parents were gone here too. It had put some things into perspective, to say the least. However, he wasn’t certain how anyone would have taken the news that he lived in a world where the opposite had happened. Yes, they knew Jason hadn’t died, but they didn’t know why and he didn’t think telling any of the Bats would do any good, even for Jason, certainly not for Bruce.

“I shouldn’t. It might make things worse… I don’t know. I feel like it’ll be bad.”

“To be honest, you may be right.” Conner scratches the back of his head, conceding to the conclusion Tim has also come to. “Things are bad enough as it is.”

“Can I give you some advice?”

Conner blinks, bemused. “Sure, yeah.”

“Support him in trying to rebuild the family he’s lost.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he grumbles. “I just want him to be happy.”

“And protect him.”

“That too. But I can’t say that outloud usually because then he gets mad.”

“He can take care of himself. But support is nice too.”

“You would know,” Conner chuckles. “You are another Tim.”

He smiles. Jason could be the same way sometimes with the hovering, an afterthought of being a vigilante and protecting the innocent, looking out for victims of crime within Gotham’s heart.

Tim, however, takes a moment to be serious. “You really think the other me would? Hurt himself, I mean.”

“He… contemplated it once. He had this gun and… well, I destroyed it after I came back and we talked. But I worry. He’s been on the edge for too long and the support he thought he had wasn’t there. He’s got things he needs to work through and the Bats aren’t exactly a good model for health and sanity.”

“Maybe he needs to talk to a therapist.”

“I’ve tried convincing him, but if I push too much he shuts down and… I don’t want to make things harder on him or ruin any progress we’ve made together.”

Tim can understand. If it was Jason on this end, he’d feel the same way. The fact that it’s a version of himself is disconcerting no matter how he looks at it, however.

They’re broken from their separate thoughts by the shriek of an alarm. The Tower is blinking red from the ceiling and Tim has a few seconds to panic about the building being besieged when he’s scooped up into Conner’s arms and whisked quickly away. Conner doesn’t even bother using the elevator and, well, to be fair the guy can fly. He goes through a window he voice activates open into the clear outside. Tim gets a good look down and immediately regrets it when he sees how high they are. The unease doesn’t last long, however, because Conner is speaking a code to another window some floors up from their previous location and another window opens. Tim is taken inside and softly deposited on a white and grey sheeted bed.

“Stay here. I’m putting the Perch on lockdown and I’ll help take care of this. I promise I’ll be back soon.”

_Oh_ , Tim finally realizes, _it’s a distress call._

Conner gives him a reassuring smile and salute before flying back out the window then everything goes into lockdown mode. If he wasn’t certain he isn’t a prisoner here, he’d feel super weird about being locked in what is essentially a box all by himself.

Tim surveys the room. The dubbed Perch isn’t a panic room, it appears, but semi-lived in from what he can gather. It has a plain design with beige walls and a sand-colored plush carpeted floor. The bed is soft, but tidy, almost like something from a fancy hotel. There is a large dresser and other furniture to take up space, but that’s all it really feels like. That everything in here is filling up empty space, doesn’t appear particularly lived in yet Tim has the sense that it is. He spots a door to a bathroom and another to a closet, peeks in long enough to discern the same feeling. There are clothes neatly packed into the closet, no dust yet hardly touched. The bathroom has all the necessities needed for someone using it yet doesn’t appear to be frequented often.

He finds out it’s the other Tim’s room by chance when he finds a hidden switch that opens up a secret compartment in the wall by the bed. In it is a spare Red Robin suit and gadgets, Tim’s eyes landing on a bo-staff and batarangs and other neat toys. It would have been odd, he realizes, if Conner hadn’t dropped him off in other Tim’s room anyway.

Looking around he finds the other Tim’s place lonely. There’s a clinical, mechanical feel to it. It’s not like when he woke up in Conner’s bedroom where there were personal markers indicating that it was a place someone wanted to be, a place someone could call home. Even other Tim’s room at the Manor was less empty, less detached. Here there are a few pictures of the team neatly put into picture frames and onto one of the bureaus, but that’s the only thing he seems to find that indicates other Tim’s affection to being here. This is a workplace, not home.

_This is kind of awful._

Without the team or Conner or anyone around really, Tim feels lonely. Is this what the other Tim feels? He wonders, can only speculate. Does he put on a brave face until he can come here and not have to pretend anymore? It’s a scary thought. It’s an unhealthy realization.

_Does Conner realize how this looks? How it feels to sit here?_ Tim is going to bet not. Even with a tablet and things to do, this room is too impersonal, too removed.

Tim looks around for something to do anyway, to keep at bay the creeping feeling rolling up his spine at being left alone here. It feels crucial to do so, healthy even, like a distraction is the only thing that is going to make the slowly dawning loneliness go away.

He finds salvation in the form of paper and pen. The desk drawer is full of both among other various writing utensils and objects. It gives him an idea, something that may be good, a way to pay forward the kindness shown to him and to help the other Tim. He sets himself up on the bed, getting as comfortable as possible to give him the best mindset he can muster under the circumstances.

Tim picks up a pen and starts to write.

> [Wayne Manor, Gotham]

Jason waits.

The answer to their… little problem requires both he and a certain universe-displaced Tim Drake. The Titans had been busy fighting a lake monster when Bruce and Zatanna finally came forward with their results. Dick dressed as Nightwing went to meet them there and collect the missing babybird after things were taken care of.

That, unfortunately, left Jason to ponder.

Bruce had relayed that he would need to sleep in the same bed as Tim, not sexual or really intimate just together. Apparently, according to Zatanna, this would connect the magic portal standards to send Tim back to his universe and swap back their original babybird. It’s… well, weird. Tim is his adoptive brother, the Robin who replaced him, the one he was trying to help bring back to the fold and atone for past aggressions against.

But this was weird. Really fucking weird.

He sighs, drags a hand down his face. He has to do it, they have to get their Tim back. It just sucks that this other Tim, the one that has been swapped into their care is fucking in love with him or something. Jason can’t really wrap his head around it and frankly isn’t sure he wants to. He’s been avoiding that kind of interaction, of talking about the little crush mostly for his own sanity and dodging anymore mishaps like that almost kiss in the batcave awhile ago. It sucks because he misses Timbo, the kid he’s become friends with, a brother to, the one he’s actually closest to in this fucked up family.

“Are you regretting your life choices, Todd?”

Jason peeks through his fingers to see the brat standing across from him, arms crossed with that petulant expression on the young boy’s face. Surprisingly enough, Damian has also been very anxious about things going on. It’s not unheard of that Damian and Tim don’t get along, but after the two year stretch without his rival and Tim going dark, things have changed and they are all making an effort to bring Tim back to the Batfold ; yes, even Damian who slips up and delves into old habits too easily, but Jason doesn’t blame him too much since he’s just a kid.

“Regrettin’ that Babs, Steph and Cass missed out on all the fun.”

Damian huffs. “Not what I would classify as ‘fun’. Besides, things are already complicated as is. Thomas and Cullen would be of no help either.”

“Ya miss Timbo too.” He laughs at the kid’s spluttering, ignoring the insults and excuses. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I’m gettin’ him back.”

Damian gives him a curious look at the mention. “Are you not…”

“Weirded out? I am. But we need our Tim back.”

“This is the only time I will say this… you are braver than I, Todd.”

“Thanks, kiddo.”

\---

Conner isn’t happy. Sure this Tim isn’t his, isn’t his boyfriend. That doesn’t mean he’s happy about this arrangement, this solution that’s been found.

Tim appears nervous. “Is… is this okay with you, Jay? I know I’m not - I know this isn’t ideal.” An understatement, but Jason’s nod is one filled with resolve.

“Just gotta take a good ol’ nap and pray the Wizard of Oz hears our call.”

It’s night and Jason is skipping patrol to sleep in tonight. Why? Because resting next to Tim is hopefully going to solve their swapping issue. Batman is overseeing this because, well, the usual paranoia and the need to monitor any changes that may occur. Zatanna is here too just incase and Dick had bemoaned having to miss this to pick up patrol with Damian in Bruce’s stead.

“Try to fall asleep. It’ll be the easiest way to gauge if it works.”

Jason throws Bruce a deadpan look at the comment. “Come along, Timbo.”

Tim bites his lip and looks back at Conner. He can tell that Conner isn’t comfortable with how things are about to go down. “Thank you,” he says with a smile,” for talking to me and taking care of me after I sort of showed up.”

Conner’s responding smile is sheepish. “No problem, dude.” He makes an aborted move to reach out and touch, but stops after thinking better of the movement. “Hope this works for both of us.”

Tim nods in agreement then takes a deep, steadying breath and follows the older boy into Jason’s bedroom. Jason makes himself comfortable under the sheets with practiced ease and Tim follows his example, the extra blanket he demanded for himself being wrapped around him to form a singular human burrito.

Jason snorts. “That’s how ya sleep?”

“Don’t make fun of me right now, I’m vulnerable.”

Jason laughs quietly at him before closing his eyes. Tim watches him relax, sees the chest move up and down as the other breathes from the safety of his blanket cocoon. It almost feels the same, almost like his Jason is falling asleep next to him, that it’s just another one of those quiet nights in they’ve shared countless times. He’s warm and safe and before he knows it, Tim is drifting off, eyes dropping closed and mouth open to suck in little breaths.

But the dream, if that’s what it is, feels like reality.

Tim’s eyes are open wide, fish mouthed as he takes a gander around. He’s in control of himself to a degree, can turn his head and move his feet and cross his arms to cover himself from the strangeness of this shapeless place. It’s hard to describe where he is, can’t exactly name the things he’s feeling and seeing.

He’s barefoot, but there is no temperature to the nothingness at his feet. There isn’t a path yet he walks as if there is, as if he can sense where he is to be led. He also realizes, belatedly, that he’s naked ; his hands move over his privates out of instinct.

He is both himself and not, a form of colors with no real distinction.

Tim’s heart is beating faster than he’s ever felt as he continues on towards light, towards swirls of other colors he can actually name, can define by hues of yellows and blues and reds and more. He can hardly think beyond the need to move forward, to get closer to the illumination of these fixed points in an otherwise dark pit. He’s slow in this place, each step taking immense effort and time, but the part that scares him is that he can’t really see, that his vision is blurry.

_I want Jason_ , is the first clear thought he can manage.

It does something, echoes his sentiment into the air around him. It makes something glow brighter in the distance, a faceless humanoid bathed in yellows and reds. Like a jolt of lightning it hits Tim with a blooming scorch of heat across his frame : it’s Jason.

Unbearable longing fills him as he tries to approach faster, needing to get there. There’s an urgency in the back of his head nagging at him to move, to get there before it’s too late. When he’s almost there he can feel Jason, the source of happiness and laughter he’s come to know well in his life.

_Jason!_ He calls out with his mind. It’s his only voice in this domain, the only way to reach out. _Jason I’m here! Please hear me. Hear me._

And as if he’s awakened a monster, tendrils of pure ice glide around his ankles and tug. Fear laces his next moments as he is pulled down into the darkness. Something is trying to stop him, something doesn’t want him to reach Jason. The realization only scares him into moving back and fight against the hold that threatens to swallow him.

_Jason! Jason help me! Please, Jason!_

The tendrils drag him further down, further away from the salvation he was so close to touching. The yellows and reds are snuffed out by the surrounding darkness that becomes his new home.

Tim is scared. He just wants to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is actually longer by 4 pages! There's one awkwardly written scene I might take out later, but so far I think this'll do. Sorry for the long wait. I'm getting started on the next chapter as soon as I can. Constructive criticism is encouraged!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a large project I adopted months back. Updates may take awhile as the chapters are long, a goal of 64 pages for each if I can make it. Hopefully this will be an enjoyable read nonetheless!
> 
> Full disclaimer : not everything pertaining to dimensions & the multiverse will be scientifically accurate because I only have small grasp of their concepts and to be frank I am not a science person. I am however fascinated by both concepts and if anyone has any input to give, feel free to do so!


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